


The Red Leather Trousers Escapade

by WingedFlight



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Assassination Attempt(s), F/M, Mystery, Narnia Big Bang 2012, Playing Dead, Silver Chair AU, also a mongoose, in which Jill and Eustace stay in Narnia for 15 years, pineapple wine, red leather trousers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-21
Updated: 2012-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 24,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25770610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingedFlight/pseuds/WingedFlight
Summary: An assassination attempt gone wrong sends Jill and Eustace off to solve the mystery behind the attacks, all while playing dead.
Relationships: Jill Pole/Eustace Scrubb
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [Originally posted to FF.net in 2012; crossposted to A03 in August 2020]
> 
> The Red Leather Trousers Escapade was written as a part of the 2012 Narnia Big Bang Challenge, hosted at the narniaexchange LJ community. A special thanks to the wonderful ladies in charge of running the challenge. 
> 
> Also, a huge thanks goes out to snitchnipped, rthstewart, and Jay, as well as everyone else who helped me through these last few months and numerous chapters. You are all amazing.

January 10, 1945  
Lucy,  
I must begin by thanking you for the letter and apologizing for not replying sooner. I received it in the midst of packing for the return to school and had to wait until the comparably peaceful train ride to read it. Even then, it was difficult to find the privacy; Gladys was acting particularly moody and would not leave me alone. I was only able to calm her down by reading her parts of the story included in your letter. (She believes that’s all it is, after all - nothing more than a fairy tale story.)

Of course, that would not be excusable for the tardiness in and of itself. The arrival at the school was a bit of a mess - although not nearly so awful as it had been three years ago when the entire school was under review with half the staff gone. That had been a disaster. This time, Gladys had managed to misplace one of her bags somewhere between the station and the school and it took a good while to track it down. I roped Scrubb into helping once he arrived. We were able to cover more ground and managed to find it in Milicent Fetchner’s room, of all places.

It was only after dinner that I was able to show Scrubb the letter and attached story. He, of course, was most interested in the mechanization of the pirates’ cannons. He also wonders if you could explain further the aerial tactics of the gryphon squad - I believe his exact concerns were the ability to bank given described air current conditions.

I was most surprised by the mention of the island country Halua, actually. Eustace once told me, years back, that he’d never heard mention of it on the Dawn Treader. For all the stories he had heard of sailing adventures and royal trips to the various islands scattered in the Eastern Ocean, he was sure neither you nor Edmund ever spoke of Halua. I would almost have thought it hadn’t been discovered at the time of your reign, except the histories of the island disprove that theory.

It was the thought of Halua that has finally prompted me to write the story I have been promising for some time. Some background information before you begin: The tale occurs in the sixth year that Eustace and I had been in Narnia. We sailed as a part of a delegation to Halua to deal with the trade crisis with Ambassador Jordis Glozelle. (You met his father, I believe, after the second Battle of Beruna.) The events I write of occurred after we’d been there nearly a fortnight - talks with the Akinua (that is, the Haluan king) and his council had been going very ill, with neither side willing to give, and time was running out before the delegation was to return to Narnia.

I send this in the hope that my letter finds you in good health and that you are adjusting well to the start of another term. I do hope you enjoy these humble scribblings of mine which, I am afraid, are not nearly so well-written as your own.

Aslan’s Blessings,  
Jill

—X—

Lucy - I read over the final copy of Jill’s version of events and just wanted to note that I do feel I have been misrepresented in this particular tale. Although to speak in defence of this fictitious version of myself: For one, it must be difficult for anyone to act sufficiently heroic after receiving such an injury, and second, absolutely anyone can be tricked into getting drunk. Grain of salt, cousin. - Eustace Scrubb


	2. Chapter 2

The wine, for all the Haluans’ exaltations, was nothing special. Eustace was no expert but he had attended enough state functions back in Narnia to have gained a passable knowledge in the area of fine wines - or, at least, enough to know that this particular bottle could not be included among the higher ranked. In fact, it tasted much the same as the wines served at any of the dinners he’d attended since the delegation had arrived in Halua. But he wasn’t about to undo the little headway Narnia had made during negotiations; Eustace smiled and nodded and diplomatically agreed that this bottle of wine really was fantastic.  
  
Besides, a more pressing concern for him at the moment was the location of this impromptu wine tasting. Just because he had once fallen from the edge of a distressingly tall cliff with less-than-disastrous results did not mean that his fear of heights had dissipated. Rather, Eustace was careful to retain his distance from the edges of balconies and castle walls and, of course, cliffs.  
  
Really, he had no idea why he had agreed to join the group on this hike.  
  
Jill was enjoying herself, of course. She had her wine glass in one hand, sipping at it occasionally while holding conversation with Ambassador Glozelle and Akili Jonuk. The wind was picking up so it was difficult to make out their conversation but Eustace preferred the safety of his position as opposed to nearing the cliff’s edge in order to join in. Even if it did mean he was trapped in conversation with a man who could not let go of a topic.  
  
“The issue with the pineapple export,” Akili Nanutoku was saying to him, “is that the voyage to Narnia takes far too long. By the time the ships reach destination, the fruit has rotted.”  
  
It was an argument that Eustace had heard multiple times already. “And the only place close enough is Calormen, yes.”  
  
“Which is in financial instability. No Tarkaan wants to spend money on the luxuries of imported fruit! My lord, Calormen’s foolish economic mistakes are going to be the downfall of Halua. We don’t have the time to play diplomatic games with Narnia. This country needs help.”  
  
“Not lord,” Eustace said awkwardly, “I’m just a knight.”  
  
The Akili had opened his mouth to continue but Eustace’s words made him pause. “My apologies,” he murmured, “I assumed the position of one from Beyond World’s End…”  
  
Eustace glanced over to Jill again. She was twisting the tail of her braid around the fingers of her free hand as she strolled closer to the edge of the cliff. Eustace felt a surge of worry and fought to ignore it; they both knew that the last time he had interfered, it had ended badly.  
  
“There is little else to offer in terms of imports,” Nanutoku went on, “Please, sir. It is time to look beyond what is best for Narnia in order to do what is right for a fellow independent country.”  
  
The accusations that Narnia did not care for Halua’s stability were getting more than a little tiring. In a flat voice, Eustace responded, “Akili, I have heard all this and more during the trade negotiations. Akili Lanuka, in particular, is very vocal about the issues you have voiced. I assure you that these points are being taken into consideration as we work to create a fair and appropriate trade agreement between our two countries.”  
  
“My cousin is strongly opposed to the Calormene control,” Nanutoku acknowledged.  
  
“And with the goodwill of her and the other members of the council, we hope to come to a consensus soon.”  
  
Nanutoku looked ready to continue, but Eustace added, “Forgive me, Akili, but I must ask, where was it this wine was from? It is quite exquisite.”  
  
The man beamed. “Imported from the south of Calormen, sir. Such wines are quite expensive and it is a real honour to be able to share a bottle with our guests.”  
  
Eustace decided to refrain from mentioning that as far as he could tell, such wine was widely available anywhere on the continent. Instead, he brought his glass to his mouth, taking a sip as he looked out over the island.  
  
The sun was hanging over the island peak, large and bright and hot. Eustace could understand why the grass was a faded green; he felt like wilting in this heat, as well. To the north side of the island, the colours were much richer. Someone had told him the vegetation preferred that side of the island as it faced the winds and received more rainfall. He hadn’t had a chance to visit the rain forest yet and hoped that another day might be spared from the negotiations for this purpose.  
  
To the south was Monakai, nestled in a dip of the land that stretched gracefully to the water. The city was tightly gathered around the naturally-shaped harbour, buildings dispersing the further inland they went. Much higher up the slope sat Puwaili, a complex of buildings that served as the Haluans’ castle. This was where the Akinua and his house lived, as well as where the delegation had been staying.  
  
Eustace turned back to glance over the cliff. Although he was still some distance from the edge, it was hard to remain at ease. The ground sloped steadily down toward the edge with odd hillocks rising up to destroy the illusion of level ground. He had a fear - irrational as it might be - that if he moved even a foot closer to the edge, he’d tumble right over and down to the water below.  
  
The Ambassador was nearing, his own glass nearly empty. Although his expression was carefully pleasant, Eustace had known him long enough to note the tense muscles around his eyes.  
  
“Bothered by the height?” Eustace asked casually.  
  
Nanutoku raised an eyebrow at the question but the corner of Glozelle’s mouth twitched. “I find it refreshing, actually,” the Ambassador answered, “Although I do wish we had peace from politics to better enjoy the view.” His eyes travelled past Eustace’s shoulder and over the rise of Halua Peak as if to accentuate his point.  
  
Eustace stifled a laugh. “I can certainly agree with you there.”  
  
—X—  
  
The wind at the top of the cliffs was getting stronger, even as far from the edge as he was. When he kicked at the ground, the dry dust barely puffed before flying inland. It had covered the legs of his trousers already and turned the tips of his boots to orange. Eustace scowled at the leather and bent down with the intention of wiping it off - and that was when the glint of metal at the crest of the next hill caught his eye.  
  
Once, he would not have recognized the source; once, he would not have understood the danger. But much had happened in the past six years.  
  
“Arrow!” he shouted, and crouched low to make a smaller target.  
  
The two Haluan lords on his right dropped down immediately, flattening against the dirt and scanning the horizon for sign of the threat. To his left, Ambassador Glozelle had disappeared behind a hillock. Eustace twisted about frantically. Jill - where was - ? He caught sight of her where she stood unknowing near the edge of the cliff, her back to the danger as she stared out over the glinting waves far below.  
  
One tense moment as Eustace assessed the risks and then - the archer on the hill drew back his bow-string - Jill raised a hand to play with her braid - _dash it all, why was it always cliffs?_ \- he launched himself toward her.  
  
They went down in a heap at the point where scant grass faded to dust. Eustace had meant to brace himself, to catch hold of the brush, but the muscle under his right shoulder was burning and the cliff’s edge was at enough of a slope that they were still moving -  
  
And then support dropped out from under them.  
  
Eustace’s stomach did a sickeningly familiar plummet. He’d felt this sensation once before but this time, there was no Lion’s breath to save him. No, nothing but the wind whistling in his ear and Jill’s terrified scream - her grip on his arm and the pain beneath his shoulder - all he could see was a blend of brown and grey and blue and deeper blue -  
  
He slammed against water and doubled up beneath the surface. His skin was stinging from the force of the impact - somehow, he’d lost Jill’s hand - he didn’t have enough air - didn’t know which way was up -  
  
And then, a calm reminder in the middle of the growing panic: _follow the bubbles_. Eustace opened his eyes and released a little more of his precious air. Everything was confused beneath the water, the spot beneath his shoulder still unbelievably painful, but Eustace managed to make out the direction the bubbles travelled. He clawed his way upward as best he could with one arm and let buoyancy take care of the rest.  
  
“-the Lion was _that_?” Jill was screaming when he broke the surface. He coughed, opened his mouth to speak -  
  
And then - two sharp splashes in tight sequence on either side of them.  
  
Jill cried out and pulled herself back in alarm. “Is that-?” Another splash cut her off.  
  
When Eustace looked up, he could see the silhouette of the archer - two archers, now - against the skyline. Another arrow zipped down and Jill pulled her arm away from the narrow miss. “Eustace!”  
  
She was close to hyperventilating, he realized. “The cliff,” he gasped, “So they can’t… shoot at us… anymore.” He attempted a stroke in the right direction but the pain crawling up his right arm exploded and he doubled over instinctively. A wave washed over his head; desperately, Eustace used his good arm to pull himself to the surface again.  
  
“-stace!” Jill had made it to his side now, reaching for him as another arrow flies down. She snatched at her arm, grimacing at the scratch. “Eustace, are you-?”  
  
He slipped under the next wave and coughed as it slid away. An arrow hit the water barely a hand’s width from his side.  
  
“Poor shots,” he coughed, “Lucky for us.”  
  
“I thought you could swim,” Jill complained. She pulled at his arm and Eustace couldn’t help the grimace. And then she was close enough to see over his shoulder. “Oh. Oh, Eustace!” Another splash in the water, too close for comfort. “Eustace! The arrow!”  
  
The next wave washed over them both and Jill’s words combined with the agonizing pain connected. Arrow. He’d been hit with an arrow. He intercepted the arrow meant for Jill.  
  
—X—  
  
Somehow, in the midst of the pain and the waves, Jill had managed to slide her shoulder beneath his good arm. By now, Eustace knew he was in trouble; the pain was growing and he was finding it harder to think and those damn arrows were still dropping into the water around them. He supposed it was a miracle he’d only been hit once so far and that Jill had only sustained a scratch on the side of her arm.  
  
Another wave washed over them and they came up coughing. Jill used her free hand to wipe away the hair from around her eyes. “I’m going to start swimming,” she shouted in his ear, too loud for comfort - but he hadn’t the breath to spare to tell her that. “Hold on, Eustace.”  
  
He snorted - what else was he planning to do? - but she didn’t even notice. He was relieved that she had managed to push aside her panic to focus on safely escaping the situation at hand. She rolled onto her side, pulled him close in a position that would hold both heads above the water, and began an awkward, one-armed stroke in the direction of the cliff.  
  
He knew how dangerous it was in the ocean - never mind the arrows - and that there was a frightening chance that the waves and currents could dash the two of them up against the cliff and leave them unconscious to drown. _Aslan_ , he prayed, and then there was water over his head again and the thought slipped away as he coughed upon coming up for air.  
  
It still seemed so dreadfully far to the cliffside. Jill paused to adjust her grip and Eustace wondered whether the currents were pulling them out to sea. That’s how people drowned, he knew, the currents dragging them out and under. He tried feebly to help Jill by kicking with his legs, but the effort jarred the muscles in his back and the pain increased until it was nearly unbearable.  
  
“Hold… still,” she panted, and turned to face him as another arrow shot past her head. She stiffened - Eustace’s thought was that she was reacting to the close call, but her eyes were too wide and the colour steadily draining from her face.  
  
“Eustace.”  
  
“Can’t… shoot at us… by the cliff…”  
  
“No.”  
  
Her eyes weren’t directed at him, Eustace realized, but at something beyond his shoulder. With effort, he twisted about, wincing at the pull of the muscles in his back.  
  
There was a head above the water a ship’s length away. Pale, scaly skin and thick, black hair that draped around a petite face. Eyes black with no iris, lips full with no colour. It’s mouth parted in a smile to reveal rows of harsh, jagged teeth. Was it here by chance? No, that was too much to hope for. Drawn by the scent of blood in water, most like.  
  
He had seen such a creature before, several times from the Eastern shores of Narnia and once on the voyage to Halua. He’d heard the dire warnings, listened to the horrifying recounts. Only once before had he been as close as he was now and he’d vowed never to repeat the situation if he could help it.  
  
Jill took a shuddering breath and whispering the word like a curse: “Mermaid.”


	3. Chapter 3

It was too much to hope that the creature had not seen them; that it had, perhaps, no interest in them today. The head was turning jerkily, scanning the surface of the water, tilting in a mock semblance of curiosity.  
  
It felt as though Jill’s throat was closing up in fear. She tried to swallow, coughed, and tried again.  
  
“Swim,” Eustace ordered hoarsely.  
  
 _Right. Swim_. She could do that. She pulled her arm tight around him again and rolled back, feeling the cold of the water close over her ears. Eustace was hanging limp against her as she struck out. For several minutes, there was nothing but the thrum of the ocean. Then, Eustace jerked.  
  
She pulled her head up and saw instantly what had caused the alarm. It was the mermaid - or, rather, the absence of the creature, for it had disappeared from the horizon of the water. A mermaid in the distance was less alarming than a mermaid of unknown proximity, Jill realized. She took a moment to regain her breath, tipped back, continued to swim.  
  
When next she looked, the head had reappeared half as far as it previously had been.  
  
There was a shout from above - from the cliff, she remembered - and something flew into the water near the mermaid. It was an arrow, followed by another, which would mean the archers were more frightened of the mermaid than they were determined to finish her and Eustace off. Unless they had been overpowered, the arrows now coming from their friends. And then the arrows ceased and there was another shout, and Jill twisted her head just in time to see a flailing figure tumble over the side of the cliff and plummet to the water below. He disappeared beneath the spray thrown up from his impact, close enough that Jill ducked her head as the splatter rained down upon her.  
  
She hadn’t been able to tell who the man was as he fell and was not to get the chance. The mermaid shrieked in triumph and dove towards the spot where the man had disappeared.  
  
He didn’t resurface.  
  
The arrows from above had ceased and when Jill glanced up again, she saw that the top of the cliff was vacated. No one was there - no one to save them. She wiped away the salt water from her eyes and set out again. She was going so slow, the water felt so thick, she wasn’t moving -  
  
Eustace jolted, the motion so unexpected that it broke her hold on him. He dropped beneath the surface before her scrambling fingers could catch at his arm. The mermaid, she realized, her heart clenching, and she ducked her head beneath the water and forced her eyes open. She could barely make out the top of his head, could see the red trail of the blood from his wound leading down, tried to reach for him but the buoyancy was too strong and forced her up -  
  
She coughed upon breaking the surface, her stinging eyes making out pale face and dark hair no more than an arm’s length away. Jill gasped again, more from the shock of realizing that the mermaid was so close and yet didn’t have Eustace - !  
  
He came up then, between her and the mermaid, and Jill grabbed for him just as he drew back his arm to throw. She couldn’t see what it was he held in his hand, except that it was brown and limp.  
  
He threw it with what was clearly the last of his strength and the improvised missile struck the mermaid square between its eyes. Its mouth fell open - to sing, Jill thought in horror - but then its head tilted slowly to the side before sinking beneath the surface.  
  
A rough, disbelieving laugh escaped Jill. He’d done it - had he done it - had he driven the mermaid away? Eustace was already slipping beneath the surface again and Jill caught him anxiously.  
  
“What - how did you?”  
  
A shuddering cough racked his body, but Eustace was grinning. “Boot,” he gasped, “Threw m’boot.”  
  
—X—  
  
It was the swirl of water against her arm that woke her. Jill felt heavy, as if she had been turned to stone like in the stories of the Hundred Year Winter. She couldn’t move, didn’t really want to move. The water touched her arm again. Reluctantly, she shifted away from the cold of the water, skin dragging against rough sand, the skin of her palm stinging as she flexed her fingers.  
  
 _Pain. Sand. Water._  
  
It came back to her all too fast: the terrifying fall, the desperate swim, the long and draining time spent pulling herself and Eustace along the cliff in search of a beach. She couldn’t even remember finding one, couldn’t recall pulling the two of them up out of the water, but the sand she was laying on now was real and firm - and wet.  
  
She scrambled up to her knees. Eustace was beside her, slightly further up the beach so that the water had only just reached his waist. Although, to call it a beach almost felt an exaggeration, for the strip of sand was small and shrinking as the tide moved in. The sun was low on the horizon, evidence that a good half day had passed since the initial tumble into the water.  
  
She crawled up to Eustace’s side and bit her lip at the blood-soaked patch just below his right shoulder. She’d learned how to treat wounds such as this before, of course, but never before had she done so without a medical kit.  
  
The tunic tore open easily enough, though Eustace groaned when the motion jostled his back. “Hush. Lie still,” she told him, uncertain if he was even awake to hear her. The wound was not so frightening as she’d been afraid of. The arrow must have pierced him as Eustace had pulled her down, for it had not lodged in his skin but had left a nasty cut from below his armpit to the peak of his shoulder. The skin around it was swollen and red, a majority of the blood washed away by the water.  
  
She had to look away and take steady breaths before she could gather the courage to look again. She needed to bind the wound to prevent further loss of blood, which meant bandages. The best she could do was tear strips from the bottom of her tunic. Carefully, she wove them around Eustace’s shoulder.  
  
And then there was nothing more she could do.  
  
She stared down at her bloodied hands and then at the bandage, desperately hoping that it was enough. A wave of water swirled up the beach.  
  
There was no longer time to wait. “Eustace, wake up. Wake up. We have to move. Please.”  
  
He stirred again, one eye opening. “Not yet.”  
  
“Eustace, the tide is coming in. We have to move.”  
  
Gradually, her persistence began to wear on him. With her help, Eustace was able to pull himself up, although he winced as the movement pulled at muscles in his back.  
  
“My shoulder -?” he asked.  
  
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” she said, and admitted, “I was able to bandage it for you.”  
  
He grunted and winced again as he accidentally moved his arm too fast. “Right. Good. Let’s get going then.”  
  
—X—  
  
“I’m lopsided,” Eustace said, his voice matter-of-fact. His eyes were distant, his arm trembling against her. Jill pressed her lips together in concern.  
  
“Lopsided,” Eustace repeated.  
  
“You are leaning all your weight on me,” Jill said testily. As if to compound her point, her foot slipped on the sand and she stumbled to the side, barely able to keep her balance against Eustace’s weight. He grunted in pain and sucked in a breath at the sudden movement.  
  
She steadied herself and paused to be sure of her footing before continuing on. Eustace waited a beat before saying again, “Lopsided.”  
  
She raised her eyes to the heavens. “Yes, because I’m holding you up. I got that.”  
  
“No. Well, yes. But -” He hissed as Jill stumbled again, jostling his shoulder. “But - lopsided. My boot.”  
  
“Your boot,” she repeated, before remembering that his left boot was sitting at the bottom of the sea.  
  
They were nearing the tip of the promontory. It was almost too much for Jill to focus on putting one foot before the other, let alone to have Eustace muttering nonsense in her ear. There was too much to think about: ignoring the rise of the tide enough to keep the fear down while searching for some way, any way, up off the beach. She’d never hated cliffs so keenly as now.  
  
Painstakingly slow, they approached the tip of the promontory and then, just like that, they had rounded the point to the other side. Jill almost didn’t dare to look up. There was a flutter of hope that they had made it out of danger, hope that there was a safe way up the cliffs.  
  
And then she raised her eyes and saw nothing but the continuing cliff face and the shrinking strip of beach.  
  
Eustace swore.  
  
“We keep moving,” she decided, and continued to walk along the sand, holding tight to Eustace and doing her best to ignore his weight. “We’ll find a path - there’s got to be a path.”  
  
He stumbled, pulling her down on her knees in the sand. He was tipping to the side and she clung to him desperately and shouted his name in alarm at the white in his eyes. For one instant she was absolutely terrified that it was too late to save him, and then she realized that he’d only fainted.  
  
Her hands were shaking as she lay him flat on the sand, brushing her palm anxiously across his forehead. “Wake up,” she muttered to him, and he moaned, his head lolling. “We’ve just got a little bit further.”  
  
She lifted her head to the sky in a wordless prayer, brushing away the tears. A swirl of water pulled at her knees and receded. Eustace’s hand grabbed at her own and she brought her eyes down -  
  
Wait. What was that she’d seen, hidden in the rough of the cliff wall? She almost couldn’t find it again, almost thought it was just a dream, and then her eyes caught again the dark impression above. It was a hole - barely large enough to crawl through, it looked like - but if there was a tunnel, there was a chance it would lead upward. Akili Jonuk had said all sorts of tunnels filled these cliffs.  
  
But oh, she did not want to go in there.  
  
Eustace clutched at her hand again as another wave flooded the beach. She bit her lip and struggled against the fear. She had to do it. She had to go into the tunnel.


	4. Chapter 4

His feet were tingling; that was the first thing Eustace noticed when he woke up. He hated when his feet tingled. It always made him think of things like foot fungi and bacteria-laden boots - not that he remembered what either of those were, anymore, save for the fuzzy memory of his father’s lecturing voice. _By Aslan_ , he had forgotten how awful it was when his father began to lecture.  
  
His mind wandered from introspective memories to pondering the cause of his tingling feet until gradually, Eustace became aware of a pressure on his left hand. It was not an uncomfortable pressure and, upon reflection, he could almost say that it was quite pleasant. Although, he couldn’t quite think of what it could be, that he would hold in his palm while falling asleep.  
  
His awareness rushed in all at once as Eustace realized that it was another’s hand resting on his own. He jerked away and opened his eyes and then had to check to make sure he had because he couldn’t see a thing. This was not the dark of a night’s sky or of a windowless room; the only other time he had felt a darkness so complete was in the Underworld.  
  
The only sound was his uneven, loud breathing and - he listened close - someone else’s steady breaths beside him. The person whose hand he had been, er, touching. Had they fallen into the Underworld together, him and this other person? Had he been kidnapped?  
  
And Jill? Where was she? Last he remembered - but even that was unclear. Water and fear - or was that a dream? Had he been dreaming? But why was he… wherever he was?  
  
He started to roll away from the person and nearly cried out from the pain in his back. He sat up as carefully as possible, wincing as each movement sent another twinge of pain out from the spot just below his right shoulder. There was a bandage tied there - and now he did remember, vaguely, someone tying it around because - he’d been hit with an - but where was - but that meant -  
  
Eustace calmed down and resolved never to tell Jill that he had believed, however temporarily, that she had been a kidnapper. He added a second clause to that: to never mention the hands-on-top-of-each-other part.  
  
Just to be sure that it was Jill, Eustace crawled back and put his hands out. He felt - was that a nose? Yes, and cheek and lips -  
  
Of course, that was the exact moment that Jill stirred. “Wha-?” she asked, and he snatched his hand back with the hope that she did not notice. And it was Jill - he would know her voice anywhere.  
  
“Morning,” he said before adding, “Although, I can’t say that I’m all too sure about that one. Could be the middle of next season for all I know.”  
  
Her breath caught. “You’re awake.”  
  
“Either that, or I am a particularly articulate sleep-talker.”  
  
She didn’t even laugh at that and Eustace sobered at the implications. “Was I not supposed to be? You didn’t feed me a sleep draught, did you?”  
  
She didn’t even answer right away. If it were not for the steady rhythm of her breaths to his left, he would almost have believed himself to be alone.  
  
When she did speak, her voice was too steady - as though she had nearly-but-not-quite fallen into tears and was trying to hide the fact with regular speech patterns. “Your shoulder-“  
  
And that was when he changed his mind. “Don’t. I don’t - I don’t need to know. Not yet.” As an afterthought, he tagged on, “Please.”  
  
“All right.” They sat together without speaking and far away in the distance, Eustace heard the plink-plink of dripping water. His shoulder was hurting abysmally.  
  
“So,” he tried, using an overtly casual tone to hide his pain, “We’re underground. Without a light. Underground. Are you -?”  
  
“Fine,” she responded in a voice that brooked no discussion.  
  
Eustace didn’t argue. Instead, he asked somewhat hesitantly, “Are we going to be sitting here much longer or do you reckon we could find a way out of this place?”  
  
—X—  
  
The inn was a humble, downtrodden building not much larger than a milk barn. The yard was a mess of thistles and rough, black lava stones; in the corner was a neglected garden that appeared to be growing anything except vegetables. If it were not for the broom on the porch and the large, wooden sign that read in heavy script, “The Silent Snake Inn,” the place might have been mistaken for a long-abandoned dwelling.  
  
Eustace didn’t even want to go in there, no matter how tired he was from the walk through the tunnels and out under open skies. The city of Monakai lay below, only an hour’s walk away, and if it weren’t for Jill - well, it had been a rough day. He was not all too inclined to argue with her now.  
  
She was the one who walked briskly up the broken-stone path to the door, the one who ushered him inside, the one who took in everything with a single look and knew immediately who to address. Not, he realized, that it was too difficult to figure out. The main room had only one large table with benches for seats, occupied at the end by two rough-looking men nursing their drinks. Coming from the door in the back was the serving girl.  
  
“Excuse me,” said Jill, pulling out a purse of coins she had somehow retained through all their misadventures, “but we’re looking for a room for a night - and clothes, if you could manage them. And my friend is hurt.”  
  
Which was how they found themselves in a small, slant-roofed room with a single mattress and no other furniture.  
  
“I’ll take the floor,” Eustace said right off to avoid any awkwardness.  
  
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Jill sat down on the edge of the mattress and began unlacing her boot, grimacing at the dried sand that came off the laces into her hand. “You’re wounded. I can manage a wooden floor for one night.”  
  
There was no real argument he could bring up for this and besides, his back really did hurt. As much as it had pained him in the tunnels, it had only gotten worse since then. He took a seat beside Jill and wiggled his bare toes - one boot was lost in the sea, the other in the tunnels. Jill finally loosened the knot and yanked her own boot off with a huff of relief.  
  
There was a knock at the door and when opened, the serving-girl brought in a folded pile of clothing. “I am afraid this is all we have,” she apologized. “My mam will be up shortly to tend your wound, sir.” She beat a hasty retreat as soon as Jill had taken the bundles.  
  
“If my clothing weren’t so crusty, I wouldn’t even change,” he said, “Can’t we just wait until we get back to the palace tomorrow?”  
  
Jill had begun unfolding the clothes and spreading them out across the bed. “What I wouldn’t give for a hot bath,” she groaned. Then she stopped, her hands shaking.  
  
A sick pit formed in his stomach at her words but Eustace tried to ignore it as he laid a hand on her arm. “No giants on this island,” he muttered, “Forget it.”  
  
“But there are people who want us dead,” she responded, “Do you think - Eustace, they had to have come from somewhere.”  
  
“I’d imagine so,” he said, but he understood what she meant. Assassins always had a purpose; the trick was to figure out what they wanted or, as the case may be, who had sent them. “You think it’s someone in the palace.”  
  
“Who else knew we’d go up to the cliffs?”  
  
He thought briefly of the people they alone had told. “It could be anyone, really.”  
  
Jill’s breath hitched and she turned quickly back to the remaining folded clothes to hide it. One by one, she shook them out and spread them over the coverlet. There were two tunics, a pair of leggings that would best fit Jill, and -  
  
“I think I’ll stick with my own trousers, thank you,” Eustace grumbled at the sight of what was laid out for him.  
  
Jill held a hand to her face in an ill attempt to hide the smirk. “Are you so adverse to a pair of leather trousers?”  
  
“I am if they’re bright crimson. Who in Aslan’s name would think of red leather trousers, anyway?”  
  
Her smirk grew wider. “Perhaps they wanted to honour our Narnian culture by giving you trousers the colour of our flag.”  
  
“You never said we were Narnian.”  
  
“Is it that hard to figure out?”  
  
He looked at their pale skin and sun-bleached hair and decided that it was not too difficult to deduce. All the same -  
  
“Do you think - that is - if someone tried to kill us once-“  
  
“What’s to stop them from trying again?” Jill finished. She looked down. “If we only knew who was behind it.”  
  
“But we don’t.”  
  
“So we need to find out. It can’t have been the assassins - I haven’t ever seen either of them before.”  
  
“So someone would have hired them.”  
  
Both fell silent as they realized at the same moment the direction their conversation was heading. Jill looked back to the clothes on the bed, Eustace to the spiderweb in the corner.  
  
“We can’t let anyone know we’re still alive,” he said finally, “For our own safety - and to catch them off guard.”  
  
“Which means we can’t draw attention to ourselves by entering the city as disheveled as we currently are.”  
  
Eustace looked down at the red leather trousers and raised an eyebrow pointedly.  
  
Jill smirked again. “Oh, buck up,” she said, “At least we won’t be recognized if no one is paying attention to your face.”


	5. Chapter 5

It was strange how very different the city was when entering as lost and bewildered travellers on foot rather than as members of a delegation from overseas. For one thing, there was no welcome committee, no long and formal introduction, no crowd to peer at you with undisguised curiosity. Jill was actually surprised at how little attention she and Eustace drew as they slipped through the outskirts in the vaguely remembered direction of the Monakai’s busier districts. Perhaps it was because the people who lived here had not been near the harbour when the delegation had first arrived; perhaps it was because they were simply uninterested. She would have expected their lighter skin to be a point of peculiarity - or, indeed, Eustace’s particularly bright trousers - but she was reminded that as a port city, Monakai found little unusual about travellers of different nationalities.  
  
“Halua had a thriving trade economy in the years following the Golden Age,” Eustace recounted, “Beginning when it drafted the first trade agreement with Narnia.”  
  
He was doing well, she thought, considering the near-death experience less than a day before. Sure, his forehead shone with sweat and his breathing could have been more even, but the woman at the Silent Snake had known what she was doing when she’d bandaged him properly. His right arm was now held in a proper sling to prevent jostling. Jill had been given a pouch of herbs, some for the bandage and others to soak in water for painkilling purposes.  
  
It was good that he was talking, for she knew it was a distraction from the pain. More to keep his mind off the wound than a desire for conversation, she asked, “So how did Calormen manage to gain control?”  
  
“The Disappearance,” he said, and really, that was all that was needed. He went on, though, and she let him explain the shambles Narnia had been left in when all four Pevensies had disappeared from Narnia. Eustace had heard it explained in both worlds: from the point of view of the Narnian historians and from his cousins themselves. The crux of the problem, he told her, lay in the fact that no one had expected all four rulers to disappear at once, and certainly not so soon. It had been difficult enough to keep the country together and foreign politics had become a tangled mess. That Calormen had taken advantage of Narnia’s inattentiveness in order to gain control of the Haluan economy was more than understandable, it was almost to be expected.  
  
His free arm was shaking by the time Eustace had finished the explanation. She led him to a teahouse without a word. He wouldn’t have asked to sit down but the sigh of relief made it clear that he had needed the break.  
  
“By the Lion,” he moaned, “how are we to find whoever hired the assassins?”  
  
She’d actually been tossing an idea about in her mind during their walk, one she now tentatively proposed. “If we had our Gifts…”  
  
“No.”  
  
“But we could use them! This is exactly the sort of situation Father Christmas must have been thinking of when he gave them to us.”  
  
“Because he knew we’d almost be killed? Would have been more helpful if he’d just warned us in advance.”  
  
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She paused as a serving girl arrived at the side of their table. Before the girl could get a word out, Jill ordered, “Black tea for two.”  
  
Eustace waited until the girl had moved off before continuing their conversation. “Chances are, whoever’s behind the attack is staying in Puwaili.” He began to list names off while counting the fingers of his good hand. “Jonuk, Nanutoku -”  
  
“Who were both at the cliffs with us.”  
  
“All the better to keep on eye on everything - could even serve as an alibi if handled properly.”  
  
She could certainly understand that. The situation would immediately place them in a position of victims to be sympathized with rather than suspected. “Jonuk spoke at length of the Haluan landscape. He’d know exactly where to stage an attack.”  
  
“But for what motive?”  
  
Jill shook her head. Eustace frowned and stared down at the table. “Nanutoku was unimpressed by how little the delegation had done in regards to the trade agreement,” he said slowly, “But I doubt it would have helped his cause in any way to have us removed from the picture.”  
  
The serving girl drew up beside their table again and set down two chipped cups and a pot of tea. Jill smiled up tightly in response and passed over a couple coins while Eustace nodded in thanks.  
  
“In that case,” he continued as soon as she had moved away again, “Who has motive?”  
  
“Akili Konolik seemed to disapprove of our high status,” Jill said, “If I had to guess, I’d suggest he didn’t believe that we came from -” She paused and mouthed, “Beyond World’s End.”  
  
Eustace bit his lip as he considered the possibility. “This isn’t enough. We don’t even know if it’s one of the Akinua’s council members. Could be the Akinua himself, for all we know!”  
  
There was a pause as they stared at each other in mute horror before Jill shook her head slowly. “No - no. There’s no reason he would.”  
  
“That we know of. We need to discuss these things properly - and in private. Look up some information, perhaps, and dig up some clues.”  
  
And they were back to her suggestion again. Jill leaned forward urgently. “I know exactly where we’ve left the Gifts. I can be there and back -”  
  
“You’ll be seen!”  
  
“Not necessarily.”  
  
“Pole!” He bent forward to hiss, “The whole point of playing dead is to remain out of sight until we figure this out. If the wrong person sees you, our entire plan is useless.”  
  
“We can use the Gifts. They’ll help us!”  
  
“Can’t use them if we’re dead.” He leaned back in his chair and glowered at her.  
  
Frustrated, she began tugging at the ends of her hair. Compromise, it was all about compromise. “I’ll skirt the edges of the palace and do surveillance. If I can see a possible way in, I’ll come back and we’ll talk it over. If not, we’ll figure out a different course of action. Fair?”  
  
“I don’t want you to -”  
  
“Fair?”  
  
He grumbled longer, but she could tell he was less adverse to this plan of action. “I’m coming with you.”  
  
“Two people will be more noticeable than one - especially since we would be expected to be seen together. Besides, you’re hurt. Find an inn to serve as base, get some rest.”  
  
“Fine,” he said at last. “But if you change the plan, you’ll have to answer to me. And please, Jill - just be careful.”  
  
—X—  
  
“You are awfully warm for a ghost,” said a thin voice in her left ear. Jill jerked away and nearly toppled from her branch in surprise.  
  
When she turned her head, it was to see that the cause of the near-disaster was one of the palace’s many mongooses. He was perched beside her shoulder, so close that if she moved at all they would touch, and he appeared to be incredibly pleased with himself over something.  
  
“Where on earth did you come from?” she hissed.  
  
“An interesting question,” the mongoose responded quickly, “Because I don’t actually know. Abandoned, you see. First memory is of a rock over in Hakunaka Valley - well, of sleeping under a rock - well, beside it, really. Not the best memory. Best place to sleep is in a tree - on the branch, you know. But that’s because I’m really a-“ He stopped suddenly and poked his head so close to hers that Jill had to lean away. “Promise you won’t tell?”  
  
She nodded, too perplexed to understand exactly what he was asking.  
  
“Setev is not a mongoose at all,” he whispered, “Setev is a squirrel.” And with that confession, he bounded away along the branch as though frightened at what she might do with this realization, and then did an about-face to trot back to her shoulder.  
  
Jill had met both squirrels and mongooses before and knew the difference between them. More importantly, she knew that no matter what Setev believed, he was nothing more than pure mongoose. But before she could open her mouth to correct him, Jill took in the eager expression on his face and decided that sometimes it was better to say nothing at all. “I won’t tell,” she promised instead.  
  
Setev spun about in delight. “Are you dead?” he asked when he faced her again. “Because I have seen dead rats before and you are not still and cold and stiff. You are very warm and moving. Is that what humans look like when dead?”  
  
“No,” she said, and then wondered if that was the right answer to give. “You can’t tell, though.”  
  
“I shan’t, I shan’t!” he cried, “I told you my secret; you told me yours. We are secret keepers, now. Keepers of the secrets. Setev keeps lots of secrets.”  
  
A thought occurred to her then, and Jill asked, “Do you know of a way into the palace grounds where no one will see me?”  
  
“You could go over the wall,” he answered immediately. “No one ever sees me. Good pipe - good climbing - climbing is good for squirrels.”  
  
She had to look carefully before she could even locate the pipe he was referring to. “I don’t think that will hold my weight.”  
  
“Wait? Do you plan on waiting for long? What are you waiting for?”  
  
She did not have the time to explain the difference between weight and wait - and then, something about his question gave her an idea. “Actually,” she said slowly, “I could do my waiting here, if you would help me with something.”  
  
“I can help!” Setev exclaimed.  
  
Quickly, she detailed out the exact location of her bronze chain, which she clearly remembered having left in its wooden box in her trunk. As an afterthought, she described Eustace’s book for him, as well. “And try to stay hidden, if you could.”  
  
“A secret, yes?” Setev said slyly, and darted away only to pause and turn back. “Setev is an excellent keeper of secrets!” And then he was gone.  
  
—X—  
  
 _No mongoose could run this fast,_ is all Setev can think as he dashes across the courtyard to the complex of guest houses. He has superior strength in his four legs, with the power to bound across open spaces and leap between tree branches. His tail, especially, must look particularly fine, streaming out behind him as the wind rustles past. Aye, particularly fine, indeed.  
  
He bounds up the wall and in through the open window. Lady Jill must be especially pleased at how fast he is performing this task - very pleased, indeed. Now, where had she said the chain was? The chain, a chain, a brain - people sometimes said he had a very small one. Small brain, small chain - a yes, the trunk! Trunk, monk, thunk is the sound that the lid makes as he lands. He circles once, twice, and wonders exactly how these trunk things work. Glass, grasp - the clasps!  
  
It takes only a moment to figure out how to flip the clasps down, but then, he is a very clever Setev no matter how small his brain. Longer is the time it takes to open the lid; finally, he manages to prop it open with a well-placed book and slip inside. It is dark on the inside. Dark, mark, park - the light from the room illuminates the corner of a small, wooden box. A pox on boxes! But no, no, he doesn’t want that, boxes are nice. So are mice - and now he’s hungry.  
  
Setev opens it up and sure enough, there is the chain. Bronze, as the Lady Jill had said. She had not told him about the pretty pendant. It is so very pretty, too, pretty and green and shiny. There is a heart hanging from it, too - an almost- same colour as the chain but a different metal. He tastes it once with his tongue just in case. It does not taste like mice.  
  
He scoops up the chain in his mouth and leaps back out of the trunk. His tail - gorgeous tail, sleek tail, squirrel tail - knocks against the book holding the trunk open. The book goes spinning across the room and the trunk slams shut, just barely missing his tail. That would have been painful - full of pain, full of rain. Now he’s thirsty.  
  
He is ready to leap out the window again when he remembers that the Lady Jill had had a second request as well. The chain she had wanted and the chain he had found and the chain he now carried in his mouth - but she had wanted something else as well. Something different, something bigger, something large and hard to carry and - he remembers now! The book!  
  
He scurries over to the book that lies in the middle of the floor and sniffs at it eagerly. It smells of pages and rages from long-distant ages and the cover is red just like the Lady Jill said. True test is on the inside, though; Setev noses the cover open and sure enough - blank pages, empty pages, creamy-white and crumpled pages. Just as the Lady Jill said.  
  
He experiments with how to carry the book and the chain at once, and eventually manages to loop the chain about his neck while carrying the book in his mouth. And then up, up and out the window he goes.


	6. Chapter 6

He’d managed to find an inn well enough, at least. It wasn’t the best inn on the street, nor was the room the best in the inn, and he didn’t exactly like staying at any place that had “mermaid” in the name after the close encounter the day before. But the mattress at the Haunted Mermaid wasn’t as lumpy as the one at the Silent Snake and frankly, Eustace was too tired to care even if it was.  
  
He’d left a message with the innkeeper that if a _Ranell_ came in, she was looking for him. Then, he’d gone up to his room and fallen asleep. By the time he woke up again, his back was sore and his head ached and Jill still hadn’t shown up.  
  
Eustace indulged himself in grumbling the entire time he climbed out of bed. He complained about the mattress and the blankets and the colour of his trousers before finally getting around to grumbling on the subject of his predicament. Lousy assassins, lousy plotting, lousy plan to figure out the truth. (Not that he really did think the plan was all that lousy, mind, but often when Eustace engaged in a good round of grumbling, he took to despising nearly everything.)  
  
The light was streaming into the room at a far different angle than it had when he’d first gone to sleep. It was rather worrying that Jill had not shown up yet. When he went down to the bar, the innkeeper claimed that no one had come in that matched Jill’s description.  
  
“Thanks,” Eustace said glumly, and took a seat at the bar. He wanted to order a drink, more for his aching head than because of his gloomy circumstances, but the purse of money was already worryingly light so he refrained. He tried to ignore the fear that something had happened to Jill by listening to other conversations in the room. Unfortunately, he wasn’t at all interested in the market price of pineapples, no matter how beneficial the knowledge might have been were he still participating in the diplomatic talks. If only he had his gift from Father Christmas, he could look up whether any book in the Cair Paravel library had information on… Well, he couldn’t actually think of what he would need to look up but having his book would be half the battle. But that line of thoughts lead straight back to his worry for Jill.  
  
He twisted in his chair, surveying the room to see if there was anything of interest to keep his thoughts busy. And that’s when he noticed the commotion outside.  
  
It was one of those noises that wasn’t noticeable at first but had clearly been growing for the last few minutes. The loud shatter of glass was what caught Eustace’s attention and he raised his head, wondering just when the shouting had begun. No one else seemed all that concerned but Eustace’s interest was piqued and so he slipped off his stool and out the door.  
  
He had not been paying much attention to the time of day, so it was with surprise that Eustace first noticed the orange light of sunset. Then, the scene before him: Two large, brawling men in a circle of shouting on-lookers. He approached the gathering, noting that most of the men there were only a few years older than himself. He couldn’t tell what the two men were fighting over and wondered if they had both just had too much to drink, and was just about to head back into the tavern when a heavy hand fell on his shoulder and spun him about.  
  
“Haven’t seen you before,” the young man shouted over the crowd. He was tall and weedy-looking, with dark colouring, ill-fitting clothes, and a fiery look to his eye.  
  
“Just travelling,” Eustace said. His voice was lost in the sound of the brawl so he tried again, louder, “Just travelling!”  
  
“Welcome to travel with us, mate!” the man roared, “We’re taking a tour of the finest establishments in the district.”  
  
Eustace knew he really shouldn’t, knew that Jill would be returning soon. “Previous commitments,” he said.  
  
“Ah, well, haven’t we all?”  
  
A great cry went up from the crowd behind them and Eustace turned about to see one man standing victorious over the other. “What are they fighting over?”  
  
“Hell if I know. Probably stepped on his lucky hat or something.”  
  
“Hat?”  
  
The man laughed and slapped Eustace’s back with so much unexpected strength that he almost fell over. “Hats,” he proclaimed with great seriousness after he had composed himself, “are what make us who we really are.”  
  
“I’m… afraid I don’t follow.”  
  
“Hats!” the man said again, with such enthusiasm that it appeared this was his entire argument. And indeed, it must have been, for he said nothing further on the subject. “Name’s Isak Kalumu, by the way.”  
  
Eustace shook his hand - it was a more enthusiastic shake than he had expected - and very nearly responded with his name. “Erlian,” he said instead.  
  
“And where do you hail from, Erlian? You do not have the look of Halua about you.”  
  
When creating a cover story, Eustace remembered, it was best to base it on the truth. “Narnia,” he said, “As part of the delegation. I’ve got the night off.”  
  
“Thought you said you had a previous engagement.”  
  
“Yes, well.” He racked his brain. “I’m meeting someone.”  
  
“A girl?”  
  
Eustace went red and Isak slapped his back again. “Good for you!” he roared. “How long have you to wait before she shows?”  
  
Setting the matter straight, no matter how Eustace wished to, would be too difficult now. Better to go with it. “I’m… not sure.”  
  
“Not sure? Will she even come?”  
  
“I hope so.”  
  
Isak snorted. “Erlian, my friend. Let me give you some advice. Don’t spend all your time waiting for uncertainties. Come for a drink and ease up - you’re much too tense - and you can drop by later to see if she called.”  
  
“But -”  
  
“And besides, mate, between you and me? Those trousers of yours are more likely to scare her off.”  
  
Eustace thought of how cross Jill would be to return to the inn to find he had disappeared. Then again, he did need to loosen up - the last two days had to be the worst in his life - worse, even, than the trek through Ettinsmoore. And that blasted wound was absolutely killing him, and Jill had the painkilling herbs.  
  
He wouldn’t be gone for long. And, after all, he could always make his apologies later.  
  
“All right,” he told Isak, and shook hands once more.


	7. Chapter 7

Jill was beginning to wonder if she should find an alternate solution to her problem in the case that Setev did not return. There was no sign of the mongoose in the Puwaili gardens, of which she had an excellent view. She had already noted during their stay that Haluans had a very lax sense of security; while the wall was a deterrent, there was little in the way of guards and no one had noticed her in all the time she had been spying from her tree.  
  
On the other hand, it wasn’t as though she was able to see much of importance. Ambassador Glozelle was deep in conversation with a woman that Jill was able to identify as Akili Lanuka. Jill couldn’t remember much about the woman besides the fact that she sat on the Akinua’s council and had spoken at length about opposing Calormene control. That, and she had a particularly annoying habit of folding her hands together while tapping the index fingers at length. A closer inspection revealed Lanuka to be doing the action even now, and Jill rolled her eyes in irritation and glanced away.  
  
Further off, two members of the Narnian delegation were strolling along the paths. Villarus, a satryr Jill had known for many years, had a band of black cloth bound around his upper arm in a symbol of mourning. His companion, Frind, was a man originally from Lantern Waste. He’d gone so far as to cut his hair short in a tradition practised by many Western families for when a loved one had deceased. It was touching to think that she and Eustace had meant so much to the two of them - and still did, she reminded herself.  
  
That was when the commotion began. It started with a goose in the back corner, which was not a big deal; that same goose had squawked at every passerby that had the mischance of coming too near her nest. But this time, the noise carried on to a trio of serving girls who dropped their trays in unison; then Ambassador Glozelle turned about to stare at something as it passed by; and then Jill finally saw the streak of golden-red fur and large, bushy tail. She risked learning further over her branch in the hopes that she could see closer despite the speed at which the creature was moving. Strange, but for a moment she could swear it was a squirrel with a book in its mouth as it headed towards the wall -  
  
That was the point at which she put the pieces together.  
  
When Setev made it over the wall and up her tree a minute later, she had a rather unimpressed look on her face. “When I told you to stay hidden, I was hoping you would not actually bound across the garden in full sight of everyone.”  
  
Even though she knew to look for the familiar mongoose shape, there was still a part of Jill’s mind that was insisting that the animal before her was a squirrel. The amount of concentration needed to ignore the illusion was giving her a headache; Jill reached forward and accepted the book before unwrapping the chain from Setev’s neck. The moment she lifted it from him, the squirrel illusion had gone and all that was left was a beaming mongoose.  
  
“I was going to stay hidden - I was, I was,” he insisted, “But the goose spotted me and thought me a squirrel so I went the other way and then everyone was shouting that I was a squirrel and it was too good to be true that my true species had finally been revealed!”  
  
Jill smiled fondly and neglected to explain the magical disguising qualities of the bronze chain. Instead, she congratulated him on his big moment while slipping the chain and book into her tunic.  
  
“Thank you,” she said when she was finally ready to descend once more, “for services most wonderfully performed.”  
  
“Are you leaving to join the dead?” Setev asked curiously.  
  
“Leaving, yes. But I’m going to find proof so I no longer have to play dead.”  
  
—X—  
  
She found the inn easily enough. She’d been the one who had seen it several days before when on a tour of the city, and had given Eustace directions to find it. She only hoped that he hadn’t gotten lost.  
  
The barkeep barely looked up when she walked in. The room itself was crowded with men and women, a majority of whom appeared to be sailors and plenty who already stunk of alcohol. She had to dodge drunken hands as she weaved through the tables on her unsuccessful search for Eustace.  
  
Eventually, she made her way to the bar where the barkeep was serving a scowling, tattooed man. “Excuse me,” she called, and then, louder over the noise, “Excuse me!”  
  
“So what’ll it be?”  
  
She shook her head and asked, “I believe my friend got a room here - I was supposed to meet him. Ranell - I believe he left a message that -”  
  
“Ah, so he missed you, then.”  
  
“Pardon?”  
  
“Your man. He must’ve got tired of waiting.”  
  
Jill’s heart skipped a beat. “Did you see which way he went? Or did he leave another message?”  
  
“What do I look like, a message board?” The man grunted and scowled before seeing something in her face. “He did go out when that rabble was in the streets.”  
  
“Rabble?”  
  
“Trouble,” the barkeep grunted again.  
  
“Terrorists,” the tattooed man hissed in her ear. Jill flinched at the close proximity and stepped away. Cautiously, she placed a hand to her side, where the Gifts were still secreted beneath her tunic - both were still there, but it worried her to carry them around. Yet, she did not trust the inn enough to leave book or chain in the room.  
  
“If he’s in with that crowd, you’ll want to find him before he gets into trouble,” the barkeep advised. Jill nodded anxiously, the tattooed man’s warning echoing in her mind as she left.  
  
—X—  
  
The trail led looping through the streets, a mess of broken crockery and harsh words of criticism. There were few that had pleasant words to say about the group of young men and women that Eustace appeared to have gotten into - the mildest comment was that “young folk are always looking for trouble nowadays” while others tended to lean to the same opinion as the tattooed man at the tavern. “Terrorists,” growled a burley sailor outside another pub, “Looking to cause political trouble any way possible. That business with the fire, now.”  
  
“They didn’t - you didn’t see - was there a young man with sandy hair and a face like - like - roundish. With freckles. And squinty eyes.”  
  
The man shook his head slowly as though to rid it of the drink. Then, his face brightened. “Oh, you mean the chap with the red trousers, don’t you? Odd fashion statement, that.”  
  
“Yes, well,” she said. As horrendous as the red leather trousers might have appeared, they were providing an excellent trail to follow.  
  
Directions led to an old pub on the opposite side of the harbour where the lighting was dim and the music of the taverns was much louder. She could hear the discordant strains of drunken song from a long way off, and nervously stuck to the shadows in the hopes of avoiding the sight of any unsavoury characters.  
  
She cracked the door and peered inside. The singing was even louder in here, almost to the point of becoming painful to her ears. Jill tried unsuccessfully to ignore it while making her way through the throng to the bar.  
  
“Drink fer ye?” the barkeep asked when he came around a minute later. She was still standing - all the chairs had been taken up - with her back to the bar while scanning the room. “I’m fine,” she shouted, “but if I might ask - you haven’t seen a man in red leather trousers, have you?”  
  
The man’s mouth opened wide and he tipped his head back to laugh heartily. “Aye,” he said when he’d stopped shaking, “Aye, just over there.”  
  
Jill followed his pointed finger and saw, in the far back of the room, the scruff of sandy-coloured hair. “Thank Aslan,” she muttered, and began threading her way through the crowd.


	8. Chapter 8

Eustace had had drinks before. Wine most often - it was a common enough drink in this world. He could remember the first time he’d tasted wine during the voyage to the edge of the world. He’d hated it, absolutely detested the bitter taste it left in the back of his throat and the heat that dropped into his stomach. Thinking back, he must have complained every single time he’d been forced to drink it right up until the undragoning. And even then, it was not so much that he liked it, but that he was trying to get along with everyone and not be a bother. It was only after returning to the other world that he had found he’d acquired a taste for it.  
  
In the years since returning to this world, Eustace had managed to develop a head for wine. Other drinks as well, for although he had not experienced much variety, it was nearly impossible to avoid alcohol in Narnia. And that was assuming that one would even want to. Why, only a week before leaving for Halua, he’d shared a very fine brandy with one of the Millcreek fauns during a lengthy discussion of the Cair’s library system.  
  
However, he had never in all his life had so strong a drink as tonight. Nor had he had so many. It wasn’t as though he intended to get drunk, either. In fact, even as he first left the street with Isak, Eustace was all too aware that he couldn’t be gone for too long. No matter that this venture was partially inspired by Jill’s abandonment; he knew it wouldn’t help their situation if he was vanished in return. Even worse if they bickered about it once he returned. One drink, perhaps, but that would be all.  
  
And then Isak handed him a shot of something that burned to choking, and all plans were forgotten.  
  
“They call it Dragonfire,” Isak explained, his voice still loud to cover the noise of the pub.  
  
Eustace coughed again. “I… can see why.” In fact, dragon fire was exactly right; now that Isak mentioned it, Eustace understood why the burning drink was so familiar. It was one of those experiences of dragonhood he would have preferred to forget.  
  
“You handled that fairly well,” Isak said, impressed. He lifted his hand to the bartender, who returned to refill the shot glasses. Isak lifted his and gestured for Eustace to do the same. “Had it before?”  
  
“Certainly not.” Eustace took the glass gingerly and tried to come up with an excuse to set it back on the table. And then Isak was counting down from three and they both tipped it back at the same time.  
  
He’d thought it might be easier than the first. It wasn’t. He really was choking, his coughing turning into gasps which turned back into coughs again. By the time he had straightened up to take a deep, embarrassed breath, Isak was laughing hard.  
  
“So, Erlian of the delegation,” Isak said once they were both breathing easily again, “This girl of yours. Is she everything a man could ever dream of?”  
  
Eustace had already forgotten about his cover story. It took a moment to sort through what Isak was referring to and then felt so flustered that he couldn’t decide on what to say. “Well, I - don’t know if - I suppose you could -“  
  
Isak just snorted and tipped back another shot, gesturing for Eustace to do the same. “Isn’t that how we all feel?”  
  
Eustace was not exactly sure how he felt right now, other than lightheaded. He waved away the next shot and thought of his next words carefully. “It’s not so much that she’s the one,” he said, “But she’s - she’s always been there for me. Always. Or very nearly, anyhow.”  
  
“Someone else with the delegation, then?”  
  
Drat, he’d forgotten about the story again, and it was too late to change his words now. “Yeah.”  
  
“Don’t wait,” Isak said sagely, nodding his head to his own advice. Eustace wondered suddenly how much Isak had been drinking before they’d met.  
  
—X—  
  
At the next pub, Eustace found himself discussing politics.  
  
“But see, if it weren’t for the increase in imports, there wouldn’t have been such a rise in the unemployment,” he said again, and glanced down at his mug. The merspit was half-gone by this time, although he couldn’t remember having had much of it already. He pulled it closer just in case there was a drink thief about, forgetting momentarily that he did not even care for the taste of it.  
  
There were three others sitting around the table with him and Isak, all drunk, listening as he lectured on the state of the economy. Occasionally, one of them would bring up a point about not wanting the Narnians to set up the new trade agreement, or about wanting the Calormenes to get out of the country already, or about the difficulty in emigration. Each comment sent Eustace on another spin of lecturing until even he was no longer sure what they were talking about.  
  
Someone bumped into the back of his chair. “On to Cat’s Knife,” the man called over Eustace’s shoulder and everyone begins to stand up. Eustace glanced down and was surprised to see that his mug was empty.  
  
—X—  
  
“Hats,” Isak said again. He was squinting hard at the top of Eustace’s head as though offended at how bare it was - never mind that he wore nothing on his own. “Hats. Everyone needs a good hat.”  
  
“I don’t know,” said Eustace doubtfully. He was cradling his mug and wondering why he had not liked this stuff before, whatever it was called. Pasta - Basil - Basilisk, that was it. Basilisk Sting. Yes, he was quite enjoying it.  
  
“But hats,” Isak said. He took a drink from his own tankard and carefully considered his words. “The thing about a hat is - it is very good for keeping the head warm.”  
  
“Thought ’twas always warm on Halua.”  
  
“Warmer with a hat.”  
  
“But - sweat.”  
  
Isak frowned as though the thought had never occurred to him before - or maybe he was dumbfounded by the very idea that anyone could be reluctant to wear a hat. “The sun,” he responded slowly, “The sun keeps the hat off the head. Or vice versa, really.”  
  
“S’pose that makes sense,” Eustace admitted.  
  
“Plus,” and here Isak leaned forward to further accentuate his next point, “It’s all about the fashion statement. Which - you clearly need to learn about in other areas.”  
  
Eustace had the idea that he should be annoyed by the comment but he couldn’t quite remember why. He laughed instead. “D’you have a hat?”  
  
“Course I have a hat!” Isak frowned. “Leastways… I used to have a hat. It was brown. And very good, fashion-wise. Good with keeping the sun off, too.”  
  
“Wha’ happened to it?”  
  
Isak stared hard at the counter. “I lost it,” he said finally, “In the harbour. Shame.”  
  
“Shame,” Eustace echoed mournfully.  
  
“S’pose that means I need a new hat.” Isak glanced up again. “An’ you need a new hat.”  
  
Eustace nodded diplomatically.  
  
“New hats for everyone.” This decided, Isak leaned back. “We’ll have to buy some on the morrow.”  
  
Eustace nodded again.  
  
“I shall get another brown hat,” Isak continued, “Brown and straw - to honour the previous, y’know. And you - yours shall be anything but red.” And then he began to sing.  
  
It actually took Eustace a moment to realize that that was what Isak was doing, and longer still to make out the words. But by the time Isak had gone through the third verse, Eustace had managed to pick out the chorus and was not in the least adverse to joining in.  
  
 _Oh a hat is a hat is a hat,  
  
No matter the tatter, where that hat is at  
  
If flatter or fatter, for cat or for rat  
  
A hat is a hat is a hat is a hat._  
  
They were onto the sixth repetition of the song, with a majority of the tavern in chorus, when Eustace felt a tap on his shoulder. He attempted to glance behind him without moving completely around and ended up nearly toppling from his chair. The person behind him - and presumably the person guilty of tapping his shoulder in the first place - caught him and kept a tight hold on his arm until Eustace was steady on his chair once more. Then he looked up, blinked to focus his eyes, and -  
  
There was a vague feeling in the back of his mind that he should be feeling anxious but he couldn’t remember why. “Hello, Jill!” he crowed instead, and raised his mug to her. “Come to join the song? _Oh a hat is a_ -”  
  
“Eustace!” She tugged at his shoulder and he saw for the first time the irritation in her expression. It was enough to steady him.  
  
“I say, Pole.”  
  
“Get up.” He tone made it clear that she was not at all amused, and reluctantly, Eustace began to rise.  
  
“But you can’t go, yet!” Isak shouted, breaking off from the song.  
  
Jill crossed her arms. “And why not?”  
  
“Because we haven’t bought our hats yet!”  
  
And, even louder than before, the song swelled around them:  
  
 _Oh a hat is a hat is a hat!…_


	9. Chapter 9

Her throat felt tight. All around, the terrorists were singing some ridiculous ditty about hats at the top of their lungs and Eustace was right in the middle of it. Completely oblivious, too. She wondered how much he had had to drink. Even worse - she knew that he wasn’t one to spontaneously go off and get drunk, which meant someone had put him up to it.  
  
She bit her lip and tugged at Eustace’s arm. He waved his other hand, still clutching a half-empty mug of something much stronger than his usual cider, and sang - no, it was more of a shout:  
  
“ _If I’ve got one for you, could it cost me a shoe?  
  
A hat, my dear, a hat!  
  
I’d buy the shade blue, a blue one for you,  
  
A hat, my dear, a hat!_”  
  
“Eustace, shut up!” she hissed at him, and tugged at his arm again. He barely noticed. In frustration, she stomped down hard on his foot, cutting him off mid-chorus.  
  
“Pole?” He blinked up at her as though only just noticing she was there. Jill resisted the urge to trod on his foot a second time out of frustration.  
  
“Scrubb, we have to go.”  
  
“But - but - hats!”  
  
 _Not again_ , she thought wearily, and before he could rejoin the song, bent over to hiss in his ear, “Life. And. Death.”  
  
“Wha-?”  
  
Of course he couldn’t even properly enunciate his words anymore, she realized with despair. If the room weren’t so crowded and loud, she would try to explain further, but had to settle for fixing him with her most intimidating glare.  
  
Finally, finally, he moved. He didn’t set the tankard down, but by Aslan, he was moving. There was a moment as he was standing up where Eustace misjudged his balance and fell towards her and she went to catch him and there was beer all over her front and suddenly their hands were entwined. Jill took advantage of this and towed Eustace forward, weaving through the crowd and apologizing to everyone she knocked into. Behind her, Eustace had rejoined the song, now singing something about his pa - no, his pa’s hat.  
  
She tried pulling him towards the door but the little bit of Eustace’s awareness that had not been numbed by the drink protested and they somehow ended up in the corner, instead. It wasn’t ideal, but at least it was a better location that at the table with everyone watching.  
  
“Eustace, do you even know who these men are?”  
  
“Isak,” he answered promptly, and much too loud. “And Teriko and Tankana and -”  
  
“Terrorists,” she interrupted.  
  
He blinked. “What?”  
  
She lowered her voice further. “They are terrorists. A gang. Wreaking havoc by day and…” She wrinkled her nose, “clearly, getting wasted by night.”  
  
“No, but they-“ He frowned, forcing his brain into thought, “We were talking politics, earlier.”  
  
“See?”  
  
“But it wasn’t like that. It was… it was… civilized.”  
  
“I’m sure anything would appear to be civilized when your conversation partner has spent the last hour buying your drinks.”  
  
He looked so stunned, so betrayed, that Jill almost wished she could take back that last statement the moment after she made it.  
  
“Must’ve been them, then?” Eustace asked softly.  
  
She knew immediately what he was referring to. “Must have been.”  
  
He visibly sagged and leaned back against the wall. Jill faced him awkwardly, still all too aware of their need to get out of the tavern and back to their rented room. She also wanted to apologize, although that was rubbish; it was Eustace who was drunk and consorting with their attackers and who’d disappeared.  
  
Eustace rubbed at his forehead and then glanced up at her again with a sheepish smile. Then, his eyes shifted over her shoulder. She turned to find one of the terrorists that had been at the table with Eustace.  
  
“Lover’s quarrel?” he drawled, “If it helps in any way, it was I who persuaded your man to come out with us. He was quite determined to wait for you - although it was you who was late to the… lover’s tryst.”  
  
She whirled back around. “Eustace!” she accused, before realizing her mistake.  
  
“Eustace?” the terrorist repeated.  
  
Eustace pressed his lips together. If he could have moved any further back against the wall, Jill was sure that he would have.  
  
“Thought your name was Erlian,” the man continued obliviously. Jill prayed he was too drunk to sort through the muddle. “Erlian, Eustace, Erlian, Eust- oh.”  
  
He looked as though he had seen a ghost. His eyes flicked between the two of them. “And you,” he said finally, “Erlian’s lover. Eustace’s lover. Would I be correct in calling you Jill?”  
  
“Not at all,” she said sharply. There was an awkward pause in which the man stared at her and she glared back while trying unsuccessfully to recall what false name she had come up with. Of course she wouldn’t remember now, when she most had need of it.  
  
It was Eustace who ended the awkward moment, stepping forward and gripping Jill’s arm. “Let’s go,” he said, much clearer than he had been talking a moment ago, and directed her towards the door. She finally peeled her eyes away from the terrorist and stumbled with Eustace along the side of the room.  
  
For one brief moment, she believed the terrorist had let it go - let them go. And then, just as they make it to the door, he stepped in front of them. “You’re s’posed to be dead. Both of you.”  
  
“So are a lot of people,” Eustace responded lightly. He attempted to continue forward; the man shifted to block their path.  
  
“Mind telling me exactly what’s going on?”  
  
“We’re attempting to leave,” Eustace responded, “And you are in our way.”  
  
The man stared hard at them and raised his voice. “I say you don’t leave until I know exactly what is going on.”  
  
The song - had everyone else been singing of hats this entire time? - faltered as the tavern’s patrons glanced over, before picking up again. From the table in the back corner - the one that Eustace had originally been sitting at - several others threaded their way through the room.  
  
“We’re not looking for trouble,” Jill started. She squared her shoulders and tried not to appear as apprehensive as she felt. Eustace’s grip tightened on her arm.  
  
“Look, Isak,” Eustace said in a low voice, “Please. We just want to leave.”  
  
“And I just want to know what you’re playing at. Seems a foolish way to elope - run into debt back home? Throwing your old life away to start anew?”  
  
The others from the back table surrounded them now, two blocking the tavern patron’s view and the others blocking the way to the door. “Giving our country a bad name,” one muttered.  
  
“Here to cause trouble,” growled another.  
  
Jill’s throat was tight and her fists clenched. “Stop playing,” she spit out, “If you want us dead then-“  
  
“Dead?” Isak barked a laugh. “Look, lady. I’m no murderer.”  
  
“But -”  
  
Eustace stared hard at her. “Where did you hear they were terrorists?”  
  
“Terrorists?” Isak coughed. “You thought -“ And he laughed again, harder this time, and Jill had never wished to disappear more than at this moment.  
  
“And who would wanna kill you?” another man asked.  
  
Jill was sinking into embarrassment but through it she heard Eustace respond, “That’s what we’re trying to find out.”  
  
—X—  
  
Someone had pressed a glass into Jill’s hand before she’d even sat down at the table. She should have refused it, knew she needed a clear head. On the other hand, it had been a trying two days and everyone else was quite drunk and enjoying it. As much as she knew that she probably shouldn’t, Jill didn’t exactly want to be the only one left out.  
  
She dropped into the nearest empty chair, two down from where Eustace was, and raised it to her mouth. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting - something strong and chosen not for quality of taste but alcohol content, most like - but the scent of pineapple surprised her. Tentatively, she took a sip and found the soft, dry wine rather delicious.  
  
“This is excellent,” she said, unable to fully suppress her astonishment. “What type of wine is it?”  
  
“Merspit,” answered the girl to her right - Teriko, if Jill remembered properly. “Best wine on the island. A Haluan specialty, it is.”  
  
“It’s a pineapple wine,” added the woman on Jill’s other side. She waited as Jill took another sip before stretching out her hand. “Name’s Tankana.”  
  
Jill shook hands and hesitated, wondering which name to give. Tankana laughed. “We all heard the story, know your name, an’ all that. _Ranell._ ” She winked solemnly and sauntered off to the bar.  
  
Teriko was swaying side to side in her chair, humming along to the music that came from the other side of the tavern. Jill recognized it as the song everyone had been singing earlier and asked rather awkwardly, “So, what’s with the hats?”  
  
The other girl barked out a laugh. “Oh, that’s just Isak. His da’s a hat maker, is all.”  
  
“But not Isak?” Jill had gotten the impression that most businesses stayed primarily in the family, similar to how it worked in Narnia.  
  
“Naw. Isak’s got four older brothers. He helps out when needed, but with the ‘conomy on the down-turn, not many folks buying hats.”  
  
Eustace leaned forward, his eyes sharp considering his level of inebriation. “You mean,” he scowled, “that whole discussion was just to get me to buy a hat?”  
  
“Oh no,” Teriko shook her head rapidly. “He genuinely believes everyone should own a hat.”  
  
“Course everyone should own a hat!” Isak roared from the other side of the table. Jill jumped, not having realized that he’d been listening the whole time. “You need a hat, too,” he decided, staring right at her with such intensity that Jill ducked her head. “A nice one. Pina weave, ‘course, with a broad rim.”  
  
“Pina weave?”  
  
“Made from pineapples,” Tankana answered. Jill hadn’t even noticed her return from the bar, but now she held a full glass of what looked the same as Jill’s own drink. “The fibres of the pineapple leaves, to be exact,” she added, her words surprisingly distinct despite the alcohol that clung to her breath. “Very good for hats.”  
  
“Not like we have a shortage of pineapples,” Teriko muttered, and then brightened considerably. “‘Nother merspit?”  
  
“I’ve barely -” Jill began, and realized she’d drunk the entire glass.


	10. Chapter 10

It was early - much, much too early - by the time Eustace lead Jill back to their room. Lead - because after the confrontation with Isak, the two of them had joined the gang at the table for drinks and Jill had experienced for herself the delights of Halua’s alcoholic beverages. Lead - because while Eustace had stuck to simple and less alcoholic beers for the rest of the night, Jill had apparently felt it necessary to prove that she could hold her drink as well as any of the rest of them. Lead - because while his head had begun to clear as they stepped out of the tavern, Jill was nearly walking in a circle.  
  
She dropped onto the bed as soon as they made it into the room, babbling on about the size of a duck’s beak. “He said - he - he said,” she continuously insisted, “A duck’s beak is a measure of the duck’s intell - in - intelli - smarts.”  
  
“Jill,” he said, and closed the door too fast, losing his balance and tripping over his own foot to fall against the wall. “Jill. You are drunk.”  
  
“No,” she retorted, “You are.”  
  
Yes, he supposed he was, now that he thought of it. It took effort to think at the moment - he would much rather let the thoughts drift by than go chasing after them. The thoughts went sideways through his head, left to right as though he was reading; Eustace wondered whether they would all fall out into the open air if he tipped his head at just the right angle.  
  
“‘Member Rilian,” he began slowly.  
  
“At that feast?”  
  
“With the moose.”  
  
They snickered at the memory of a recently crowned king attempting to hold his own against an already well inebriated male moose. If Eustace remembered correctly - and despite his intoxication, he was certain he did - Rilian had failed miserably, passed out, and spent the next morning sick in his chambers. Eustace had been the one to find him curled up against the foot of his bed, cursing anything alcoholic and calling for an immediate law against out-drinking the king of Narnia.  
  
“You are just as drunk,” Eustace told Jill.  
  
She scowled up at him, nose wrinkling. “I have no wish to ban drinks,” she said, and rolled further onto the bed. “In fact, I am quite in favour of them, actually.” She squinted, rubbed at her eyes, and squinted again. “Eustace, were you really wearing those all night?”  
  
“Wearing what?” And then he recalled, for the first time in hours, his trousers.  
  
“Eustace!” she exclaimed, “Eustace of the red leather trousers. They shall write ballads about you. Ballads about your trousers.”  
  
He had been so embarrassed by them before, but now he found them absolutely hilarious. Once he started laughing, it felt like he would not ever stop. The trousers - the red leather trousers - those hilarious, red leather trousers!  
  
“They are rather terrible,” Jill was saying, “Really terrible, terrible red trousers, those are. Terrible.”  
  
“I could take them off,” he offered.  
  
—X—  
  
Lucy - This is Eustace cutting in because I was reading Jill’s draft and I really do have to protest. I know that if I scrap this page, she’s just going to bite off my head and write it again but it really is unfair because it makes it seem like certain things happened that night and absolutely nothing did. Honest to Aslan, nothing happened. The opposite of anything happening happened, which is to say, that nothing did. Nothing at all. It was a completely ordinary night in which the two of us happened to share a mattress because there was only one and I was still wounded and Jill was tired of sleeping on the floor. But that doesn’t mean anything happened. By the Lion, Jill and I shared a blanket each night that entire journey up through Ettinsmoore in search of Rilian - and before you get any funny ideas, nothing happened then, either. And even if anything did happen, it would be none of your business. Besides, she’s my wife, so hush up. Although she wasn’t at the time. But the point still stands. So mind your own business, please and thank you. - Eustace


	11. Chapter 11

_Rat-tat clatter-clatter._  
  
Pause.  
  
 _Rat-tat-tat clatter-clatter._  
  
Pause.  
  
 _Rat-tat clatter -_  
  
Jill lifted her head blearily at the sound of machine guns in the distance, only to realize she was lying in an inn in Halua where, to her knowledge, there was no such thing as a machine gun. Nor, she found, could she quite remember what a machine gun was, except that it was from Beyond World’s End and terribly noisy.  
  
 _Rat-tat-tat clatter-clatter-clatter._  
  
The sun was so bright - was too bright. She squeezed her eyes tight, rolled over miserably, and stifled a moan at the storm that erupted between her eyes. Oh, by Aslan, but that hurt.  
  
 _Rat-tat -_  
  
Hurt, and the noise out the window didn’t help either.  
  
There came a groan from her right and someone heavy rolled against her. She lifted her elbow to jab him and Eustace yelped in protest and rolled away. The mattress suddenly became lighter as he left the bed. Hinges squeaked as the shutters were pushed open, followed by a cry of triumph from below.  
  
“Oi!” she heard Eustace shout irritably, “Go bother someone else at this hour.”  
  
“But _Erlian,_ my friend!” came the more distant and far too cheerful reply, “We have come to assist thee and thine fair lady.”  
  
Eustace’s rude reply, while loud and unrepeatable, received another laugh from the street below.  
  
“We’ll meet you in the tavern, then!”  
  
Eustace cursed them all good-naturedly, and slammed the window shut.  
  
The corner of the mattress by her feet sunk again as Eustace sat down. “Rocks at the window,” he grumbled, “as though we’re twelve years old again.” The mattress continued to depress as he apparently stretched out along it again. A moment later, he was poking at her arm.  
  
Jill snarled at him and twisted away. Eustace poked her again. “Up you get,” he said, his voice much too cheery for such an early hour, “You’ve made it to another day.”  
  
She flung her arm in his general direction, hoping to get a good hit in to shut him up, but apparently Eustace was better at avoiding direction-less attacks than she’d expected. Her hand landed on nothing but mattress, and a moment later, he was poking at her wrist.  
  
“You can’t avoid it forever, Jill. You’re going to have to wake up sometime.”  
  
With the greatest reluctance, she cracked open an eye, recoiled at the light, and tried to roll over again. He caught her shoulder. “Jill. Isak’s waiting for us downstairs.”  
  
“Gerrido’im.”  
  
“Pardon me?” he asked archly. She swatted at him again, aiming in the direction of his so very loud voice, and missed again.  
  
“Look, Jill, he said he’d be willing to help us figure out what’s going on. I can’t just ‘get rid of him.’”  
  
 _Not listening_ , she decided, _Not listening not listening not -_  
  
The mattress lifted up, Eustace apparently having given up on scolding her. Maybe he would just go down and see Isak himself, leave her to her misery and much-needed sleep.  
  
There came a sudden shock of cool air as the blanket disappeared, her head collapsing to the mattress a moment later as the pillow was pulled away. Furious, she sat up, glaring through the painful light at the smirking fiend standing at her side.  
  
“Hate. You,” she bit out.  
  
“Great,” Eustace responded, “Maybe your hate will give you the energy to come downstairs.”  
  
—X—  
  
Teriko had pressed a cup of some foul-smelling concoction into her hands the moment Jill had slumped into her chair at the corner table. She’d wrinkled her nose and nearly refused, until Tankana had explained that it was to cure the hangover. This had been followed by a skeptical half-inspection of the liquid, after which Jill had decided she didn’t really want to know what the drink was composed of after all. The taste of it was - well, it was indescribable, really. It was all she could do to not gag after she’d swallowed.  
  
“We know everyone in this city,” Isak was saying, “Or, everyone worth knowing, really. I sent out a few of the lads-“  
  
Tankana coughed.  
  
“- _And gals_ first thing this morning. Jamek was able to pinpoint a barkeep who’d heard some suspicious talk from three of the boys a few days past.” His face darkened. “Jakono, Kiliteth, and Rov. I’m gonna _kill_ them.”  
  
“But - there were only two on the cliff,” Eustace cut in.  
  
“Which could mean someone chickened out.”  
  
Jill ventured another sip of her drink and bit back a startled cough. It tasted just as bad the second time.  
  
“Ain’t seen Rov nor Kiliteth in days,” Teriko brought up. “The squirrels won’t show their faces after taking a job like that.”  
  
“Squirrels?” Jill asked.  
  
“Cowards,” Tankana provided.  
  
Eustace blinked. “I thought there weren’t any squirrels on the island.”  
  
“It’s a general term. I’ve never actually seen a squirrel. Although I’ve heard they’re a lot like mongooses.”  
  
Jill’s amused agreement was enough to overcome her fear of the hangover cure; she lifted the mug and took a big gulp, only to trigger her gag reflex and start coughing furiously.  
  
All four faces turned to her in concern, Teriko taking the cup from her while Tankana passed over a handkerchief for Jill to wipe her mouth. She waved a hand as indication that she was all right, that the others could continue the discussion, but Eustace had already picked up her drink.  
  
“What - Pole, what are you drinking?”  
  
It was Teriko who answered for her. “Good ’n proper hangover cure,” she said proudly, “Made by yours truly.”  
  
Eustace looked dubiously at the contents, dipping a finger into the mixture before bringing it tentatively to his tongue. “Is that… egg?” He made a face and took another taste. “And… merspit?” One more taste. “And mint?”  
  
“Best cure for a hangover is getting drunk again,” Teriko answered promptly.  
  
“No,” Tankana said in a superior voice, “It’s the fact that you think you’re drinking a cure that makes you feel better.”  
  
“Actually, I feel like I’m going to be sick,” Jill said weakly.  
  
Eustace rolled his eyes. “Not again.” He pushed his own cup across the table to her. Jill glanced down and saw with relief that it was nothing more than water.  
  
“The whole point is to counter the dehydration,” he said with a knowing smirk, and Jill grabbed at the cup eagerly. It was less a desire for a real cure that motivated her now, and more the fact that she needed to rid her mouth of the taste of Teriko’s “cure.”  
  
“Back to the issue at hand,” Isak said dryly, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement, “Teriko, you said you haven’t seen Rov nor Kiliteth. How ‘bout Jak?”  
  
“The Lucky Cobbler, night before last,” she answered promptly, “Hangin’ about in the darkest corner of the room. If he squirrelled out of the job, he’ll be tryin’ to keep his head low. My bet’s he’s still there.”


	12. Chapter 12

The door to The Lucky Cobbler opened with a jingle as Teriko barged in at the head of the group. The others followed rather more cautiously: Isak at the front, Eustace and Jill immediately after, with Tankana bringing up the rear. As they spread out, a large man bustled over from the back room, a wide grin on his face.  
  
“Teriko, my favourite niece! I just fixed your shoes yesterday. Don’t tell me you’ve worn them out already? Climbing through the lava caves again?”  
  
“Not just the caves,” Teriko responded with a grin, “You wouldn’t believe the plants I find growing out among those rocks.”  
  
The man appeared to be aiming for a hug from her, but Teriko managed to sidestep it by pretending to examine a shelf of shoe-repair tools. As if to hide his original intentions, the man turned to the next closest person. “Isak,” he boomed, “How’re your soles? And foreigners?” He raised an eyebrow at Teriko, who rolled her eyes and dodged another near-embrace.  
  
“Erlian,” Eustace said, and stretched out his left hand awkwardly for a shake, half afraid he would receive a hug instead. Indeed, it seemed to be a near thing, the man pulling him forward before a glare from his niece put a stop to things.  
  
“Ranell,” said Jill. She was unable to avoid the embrace, but took it good-naturedly. Eustace caught a wistful half-smile on her face as she pulled away, smoothing down her hair. “And you, sir?”  
  
“No ‘sir.’ Simply Dinenku, at your service.” He nodded at them happily before frowning suddenly. “Erlian, boy, you have terrible fashion sense. Your shoes don’t match those trousers at all.”  
  
Eustace hadn’t received so many comments on his clothing in all his years in this world as he had in the past two days. “They’re not my shoes,” he said, and then proceeded to add, almost as an afterthought, “and not my trousers, either.”  
  
During the exchange, Teriko had edged to the back of the room. She tipped her head at the others, inviting them to follow. Tankana moved along the side of the store and Isak took a step to the side to move around the cobbler.  
  
“Pardon,” Dinenku said, his cheerful disposition darkening suddenly. He threw out an arm to block Isak’s path, “but if you’re not here for cobblin’ expertise, I can’t have you making a mess of my shop. Out, Teriko, and your friends with you.”  
  
Eustace exchanged an uneasy glance with Jill, uncertain of whether he should move forward to help or wait the situation out. None of the others seemed to be paying Dinenku any heed; Teriko had rolled her eyes and Isak had reached out to push Dinenku’s arm down, but Tankana was stationing herself to the right of the door to the back room.  
  
“Teriko,” Dinenku warned. His niece rolled her eyes again and rapped a hand on the door before pushing it open.  
  
“Cos!” came an exclamation from the other room, and then there was a shout of alarm as Tankana moved in. Barely a moment later, she had reappeared with a young man in tow. He was young, with a two-day beard and scruffy hair, and only half-dressed. He glared at the group assembled in the shop, and when his eyes landed on Isak, attempted to dive back to the sanctuary of the back room. Tankana’s grip on the man’s arm was strong, and to save face, the he wheeled back to face the group.  
  
“How’s it?” he asked sheepishly, and tried once more to break free of Tankana’s grasp.  
  
Isak pushed past Dinenku to stroll across the room and cross his arms. “Jakono. You’ve been avoiding me.”  
  
“Nothing personal,” Jakono responded nervously. His eyes flickered about the room as if searching for an escape.  
  
“We’ll see how personal it is, aye?” Isak responded irritably.  
  
—X—  
  
Jakono had pulled a tunic on and now sat perched on the corner of the bed that took up half the living space of the shop’s back room. Tankana wasn’t restraining him anymore, but there wasn’t any escape; the group had formed a tight ring about him. Eustace thought, with an odd flare of pride, that they were quite intimidating. Even so, Jakono had a habit of glancing nervously towards the door as if expecting someone else to enter; it was getting to be incredibly distracting.  
  
“Look,” Isak said irritably, “We know what the job was and we know you were discussing it with Rov and Teth. So where are they?”  
  
“And I’ve been telling you I’ve no idea!” Jakono hissed back. “We got the job, I backed out, the others went to the cliffs, and I’ve been hiding in the back ever since.”  
  
“Hiding from what, though?” Eustace asked.  
  
Jakono glanced at him nervously and looked away again. “The job was bungled, that much is clear. Otherwise, Rov and Teth wouldn’t be hidin’ their faces.”  
  
Jill was rubbing at the side of her head. Eustace wondered if it was a headache still remaining from the drinks the night before, or whether it was due to this whole mess of a situation. “Bungled how?” she asked wearily.  
  
“Well, it was completed sure ‘nuff,” Jakono said warily, “or at least, so I thought.” He looked between Eustace and Jill’s faces again and exclaimed, “Look, there was a reason I squirrelled out of it! I didn’t want to kill ya - didn’t want to kill anyone!”  
  
“But someone wanted us dead?” Eustace asked eagerly. From the corner of his eye, he saw Tankana wince at the question and realized from her regretful expression that he’d accidentally confirmed Jakono’s suspicions.  
  
“Sure. She’d offered a way off the island for it.”  
  
“So you accepted an assassination job?”  
  
At Jill and Eustace’s obvious incomprehension, Isak shook his head and clarified, “Emigration’s near impossible. Calormen wants to control the island and that’s how they do it. Same reason there’s so many o’ us young folk with no jobs hanging about. Not surprised some would kill for the chance at a life.”  
  
“Or die for it,” Jill said softly.  
  
All eyes turned to her. Her face was pale and she was biting her lip unhappily. “I’d forgotten. You must have, too, Eustace.”  
  
He had no idea what she was talking of. “Forgotten what?”  
  
“The mermaid. When we were swimming away.” She paused, eyes flickering uncertainly between everyone. “Someone fell from the cliff into the water. It could have been - possibly -“  
  
A heavy silence greeted her words. Eustace remembered suddenly the sickening moment of watching someone plummet into the water, of watching them disappear beneath the waves and seeing the mermaid dive down after them. Nothing had come up afterwards, either.  
  
“She’s right,” he said heavily, “And the other may have been killed up on the cliff. There were others there with us. They may have had a struggle.”  
  
Jakono’s eyes were wide with fright. “I’ll tell you anything,” he said quickly, “Anythin’ you want. The lady - she what gave us the job - I bet I can tell you where to find her, even.”  
  
“Lady?” Teriko repeated.  
  
“Aye. A lady it were, proper Haluan noblewoman. Dark hair, thin face, very small eyes. No height to her, either.”  
  
The description was familiar but Eustace couldn’t quite place it. “Anything noteworthy about her clothing? Accessories? Habits or mannerisms?”  
  
Jakono pursed his lips in thought. “She was - she did this thing with her fingers. Wove them together like - ” To demonstrate, his held his hands folded before him, index fingers pointed upward.  
  
It was Jill who managed to place the woman. “Akili Lenukah,” she said softly. “It’s Akili Eker Lenukah.”


	13. Chapter 13

“There’s no one home,” Teriko said as she slipped into the alley where the others were all gathered. She was taking her hair from her braids as she spoke, shaking her head to allow the thick, brown waves fall about her face. “I went up and down the street a few times, managed to peek over the garden wall and through the windows. No one home.”  
  
“No one?” Eustace asked in surprise. He was sitting on a crate beside Jill, rubbing absently at his right elbow where it protruded from the sling. Jill had told him to stop three times already, worried that he’d accidentally jar his arm and hurt his shoulder. So far, he’d ignored her.  
  
“Well, the servants were there, of course.”  
  
Isak frowned at her from where he was leaning against the wall. “That would make a difference.”  
  
“But there’s no one important!” Teriko protested, and rolled her eyes as though frustrated that no one had been able to read her mind.  
  
Jill looked down at the basket at her feet. “Do you really think it will work?”  
  
“That doesn’t give us confidence,” Eustace groaned. “It’s your plan. Do you think it’ll work?”  
  
She may have thought of the plan but it didn’t mean she liked it. Still, Eustace was right; it wouldn’t instill confidence in the others if she didn’t believe it would work herself, and confidence was necessary for a plan such as this. She took a deep breath, ran over the steps once more in her mind, and gave a short nod. “It’ll work.”  
  
“Right.” Teriko was bouncing on her toes. “So you’ve got a plan, then. What’s my role?”  
  
“You’ve already performed your role.” Isak continued talking over her indignant protests. “We can’t afford to change things just because you haven’t satisfied your desire for adventure. Besides, we’ll need to know exactly what you saw in order to pull this off.”  
  
“Glad to know my scouting wasn’t in vain,” Teriko grumbled, and crossed her arms over her chest to pout at the others.  
  
There was a pause. Jill looked up from the basket to see that everyone was staring at her expectantly. “Right. I - uh - guess we’ll need to divvy these up and - I’ll go over each part one more time?”  
  
Eustace was nodding encouragingly. She took a deep breath. “We’ll have to go quick, though. Don’t want the situation at the house to change while we’re all sitting here talking.”  
  
There was barely a moment’s hesitation before Tankana reached into the basket and began distributing the articles of clothing contained there. The focus no longer on her, Jill bit her lip and glanced over to Eustace. “It will work, right? You think it’s a good plan?”  
  
He smirked. “Jill, any plan that provides me with ordinary, brown, fabric trousers instead of the atrocities I currently am wearing has got to be a good one.”  
  
—X—  
  
The door was so very intimidating. Jill hung back, unwilling to climb the final step. “What if it doesn’t work?” she hissed to Eustace, “What if they catch us? What then?”  
  
“Then we’ll be alive and not dead,” he muttered back. He paused to rethink his words. “Or rather, there’s a good chance we’ll stop being fake dead only to become real dead.”  
  
“How encouraging,” she said dryly, and rolled her eyes.  
  
He didn’t wait long enough for her to gather her courage. Three brisk raps on the door, just as Tankana had said all island messengers did. There was barely a minute to wait, which Jill spent shuffling uneasily on the step and taking long, deep breaths in an attempt to calm her nerves. And then the door opened.  
  
“Aye?” The servant who opened the door barely raised an eyebrow at the sight of the two messengers on the step. Jill had been all set to explain that she was in training, that she was shadowing a messenger in order to learn her job, but the maid didn’t even ask. If anything, she appeared to be most intrigued by the sling that still held Eustace’s right arm.  
  
“Message for Akili Eker Lanukah,” Eustace said, just as Tankana had instructed him. He paused to raise the brown envelope, his left hand shaking enough to cause the paper to tremble. Jill stared at it helplessly, just waiting for the servant to notice and wonder what he was afraid of.  
  
And then, perfectly on cue, a shout from the street: “Help, thief! Thief! Stop him!”  
  
The maid glanced over Jill’s head in search of the source of the commotion before briskly turning back to Eustace, her hand outstretched for the envelope. He’d turned, though, his arm fallen at his side as he strained to see what is causing the noise out on the street. The maid let out an impatient huff and cleared her throat as Eustace took another step away. Jill looked between him and the maid anxiously. If this didn’t work…  
  
The maid huffed again and stepped out the door. “Excuse me,” she said to Eustace, and he turned, startled and apologizing. “Oh, the letter, yes, sorry.”  
  
And that’s when the maid crumpled.  
  
Jill barely managed to catch the woman before she hit the ground. Isak bent down beside her, dropping the rock he’d used as his weapon to lift the maid easily in his arms. He carried her over behind the hedge that lined the front walk. In the street, Tankana was still shouting about a thief; Eustace was impatiently standing guard at the door.  
  
As soon as they’d gotten behind the cover of the bushes, Jill began pulling off the woman’s outer dress to replace her own outfit. Next was the apron. As soon as the last lace was tied, she pulled out her bronze chain and brought it up to her neck.  
  
“Here, let me,” Isak said and moved forward, but she shook her head at him and did the clasp up herself.  
  
As she dropped her hands, Isak’s eyes widened and he stepped away. His eyes flickered uneasily between her and the unconscious maid. “That is uncanny,” he breathed.  
  
His words were enough of a confirmation to her that Jill didn’t wait to say anything else, but dashed back to the stairs. Eustace was beckoning anxiously, Tankana’s cries already fading down the street.  
  
There was no longer any time to worry about whether her disguise would hold or not. Jill dashed up the steps and slipped inside. The entrance hall was deserted; she tilted her head to her companions and they followed her, Isak closing the door behind them.  
  
They had done it. They had made it inside.


	14. Chapter 14

It really was bizarre to break into the home of Halua’s most influential council-woman with a complete stranger. Or, well, Eustace knew that it wasn’t really the maid who was leading him and Isak through the halls, that is was the magic of Jill’s chain that had changed her appearance. If he concentrated enough on her, he could even see through the enchanted disguise, although it was like looking through a shimmering wall of water and gave him an instant headache.  
  
Another maid passed on their way up the stairs. Jill gave her a brisk nod, easily mimicking the character of the woman she was impersonating. The other woman barely gave a second glance before continuing on her way.  
  
“Teriko said there was a room that looked like a study at the side of the house, third window down,” Jill was whispering. She paused in front of a portrait on the wall, tipping her head to study the features of the young man.  
  
“Lanukah’s nephew,” Isak said, “Come on.”  
  
Without another look, Jill moved on down the hall. She considered one door carefully before moving on to the next. Her hand closed around the doorknob. “ _Lion_ , don’t let anyone be in here.”  
  
She opened the door, peered in through the crack, and pushed it wider. The three of them fell in quickly, shutting the door behind them again as quickly and quietly as possible. Isak had crossed the room immediately to begin rifling through papers on the desk. Jill hesitated, then moved towards the cabinet beside the window.  
  
This was Eustace’s least favourite part of the plan and it was all because of the vagueness. “Find the incriminating evidence” was all well and good in theory, but incredibly unhelpful in practise. Just about anything could be incriminating when viewed in a particular light, and in the same sense, any actual evidence could appear irrelevant and passed over. Just where would one hide “incriminating evidence,” anyway? Were it he who had hired the assassins - a ridiculous concept, because that would either mean he was trying to kill himself or thwart his own plan for danger-seeking thrills - he would have hidden any evidence among the legitimate business. Which meant he should go through the files.  
  
He didn’t want to go through the files.  
  
Unimpressed by the fact that neither Jill nor Isak had decided to look in the important place first, he hurried over to the desk and opened the bottom-right drawer. Sure enough, there was a stack of thick ledgers. There wasn’t enough time to go through them all now, line by line as he would like. Neither could he take them from the house, for someone would realize they were missing and know there’d been intruders.  
  
He sent a silent prayer of thanks to Aslan and Father Christmas and reached into the messenger’s bag that hung at his side. The book he withdrew had a heavy, musky red binding and creamy, blank pages. He lay it out on the floor, open to a random page. Next, he lifted the ledger that had been sitting on the top of the pile and flipped through it to get a sense of the dates. Sure enough, it was the most recent, and so he set it atop his own book. What he could still see of the corner of his book’s pages immediately filled with lines of careful pencil markings. And when he had lifted the ledger again, a perfect copy of one of the pages stared up at him. He flipped the page to check and saw that the lines of numbers continued there.  
  
That accomplished, Eustace replaced the ledgers in the drawer and closed up his book. He would have copied more, but he knew there was a limit to the amount of information his book could hold and he didn’t want to risk copying over what he already had. So he slipped his book back into his bag and rifled through the rest of the drawers. There wasn’t anything there to catch his attention, although that could very well just mean he had passed the “incriminating evidence.”  
  
“Scrubb!”  
  
Jill had pulled a box out of the cabinet to the floor. The lid was open, although he couldn’t see what was there until he had crossed the room to her side. It was full of coins, all Haluan currency: Shells and Fins and others, as well. There were also jewels and a small, black leather pouch tied with gold string. Jill held the pouch out to him and Eustace peered inside. The contents were more coins, but these were familiar Narnian Trees and Suns. There was a folded page inside the pouch as well; Eustace pulled it out and opened it carefully.  
  
“What does it say?” Isak asked from where he was still searching the top of the desk.  
  
Eustace scanned the words, a sense of unease running through him. “It’s a letter of recommendation - for emigration - this could have been how the assassins were to leave the island.”  
  
“But it looks like Akili Lenukah wasn’t the one behind the attack,” Jill whispered in horror, “As if she was paid off by someone else. Someone with… Narnian currency.”  
  
He stared at Jill, unable to believe what she had said. Who could have wanted them dead? But although he ran through the members of the delegation twice over, he couldn’t think of anyone to properly suspect.  
  
“They could have used Narnian currency to throw us off the trail,” he suggested weakly.  
  
Isak had moved up behind him. “Except no one knows you need to be thrown off,” he reminded. “I think we’ve found all that we can, here. We should get out before -“  
  
He stopped, all three of them hearing the ominous sound at the same time. There were footsteps in the hall, growing steadily louder.  
  
“They won’t come in,” Jill whispered, but her voice was thin and uncertain.  
  
It was Eustace who snapped out of it soonest. “Hide!” he hissed, and dove towards the desk. Jill was right behind him, about to crawl underneath beside him when she stopped in horror. “The lockbox!”  
  
“I’ll get it,” Isak hissed, and turned back.  
  
“But it wasn’t just in the cabinet. There’s a hidden compartment at the back!”  
  
“Got it.”  
  
“But you didn’t lock it!”  
  
Busy wiggling behind the chair to get into the furthest corner under the desk, Eustace almost missed what Jill had said. “Wait - it was locked?”  
  
“Yes, and I picked it. But you have to - “  
  
“No time!”  
  
Jill crawled up beside Eustace, her face uncomfortably close to his. Isak tried to worm in beside them, but there wasn’t enough room. Jill wiggled closer, and Eustace moved back only to bite off a cry as he pressed his right shoulder against the wood. The footsteps paused outside the door.  
  
Isak had given up on trying to hide beneath the desk, dashing half across the room and back. “There’s nowhere - ”  
  
“Here.”  
  
Jill reached out a hand and passed something to him. Eustace peered out between the legs of the chair and saw Isak fumble with something at his neck. A moment later, and he was gone, replaced by a young man with thicker shoulders and shorter hair and a rounder face.  
  
The door opened.  
  
The maid shrieked when she saw that there was someone in the room. She clutched at her chest and stumbled backward.  
  
“Came to see my aunt,” Isak mumbled, for it was him under the disguise of Jill’s chain.  
  
The maid shrieked again and fled. A moment later, Isak was helping Eustace and Jill out. “Hurry,” he told them, “We can’t have much time.”  
  
“But why was she so scared?” Jill asked as they fled the room.  
  
Isak chuckled darkly. “The Akili’s nephew was lost at sea two years past. A mean trick but it worked.”


	15. Chapter 15

“I don’t understand what you expect to find in there,” Teriko complained again.  
  
Eustace didn’t even respond. He was curled up on the mattress of their inn room, his book on his lap as he flipped through pages of numbers. At Teriko’s heavy sigh, Jill looked up from where she was reading over Eustace’s shoulder and said briefly, “There could be a chance the payment is explained in her records.”  
  
“But why does it matter? We know it was one of the Narnians - can’t we just go search their rooms now?”  
  
“There could be another explanation,” Jill answered, “If it were for a legitimate reason, it would be recorded here.”  
  
“Not necessarily,” Eustace muttered quite unhelpfully, “But there’s a good chance.”  
  
Teriko sighed again. “But I want to _do_ something.”  
  
Jill wanted Teriko to go do something, too, so she would stop irritating them. “Wait for Isak to get back.”  
  
Teriko thumped her foot against the floor in frustration. “He’ll just agree with me.”  
  
Eustace turned another page. “Huh.”  
  
Two pairs of eyes turned back to him. Buried as he was in examining the page, Eustace didn’t even notice.  
  
Jill cleared her throat. “Did you find something?”  
  
He paused, running a finger down the column. “Not… quite. That is, it isn’t record of a payment or anything. But…”  
  
He turned the next page and studied the numbers carefully. Teriko crossed the room to the side of the bed, squinting down at the page with a frown before shaking her head in incomprehension. “But?”  
  
The door swung open. Jill had jumped off the bed before she realized it was just Isak, pushing his way into the room with a large basket in his arms.  
  
“You’ll have to have a disguise again, of course,” he announced, jumping straight into the middle of a conversation. “Can’t have anyone recognize you.”  
  
Eustace glanced up from his book. “Oh?”  
  
“A noble from the other side of the island is arriving in Monakai today and will be staying at the Puwaili. We’ll have you go in as a part of his retinue. Although -”  
  
A creeping unease began to crawl up Jill’s back. “Although?”  
  
“You won’t like this,” Isak admitted, still looking at Eustace.  
  
“Won’t like what?”  
  
He held up the basket unwillingly, “You’ll have to wear the uniform. The Akili’s colours are red.”  
  
For a moment, Eustace’s face had turned the same hue as his most hated trousers. “No. Absolutely not. No!”  
  
—X—  
  
“I never thought I would say this,” Jill whispered to Eustace, “But I think I’ve gotten used to the sight of you in those red trousers of yours.”  
  
“I hate you right now,” he retorted. “Nearly as much as I hate these trousers. Although you can rest assured that I will never hate anything so much as I have come to hate these trousers.”  
  
“I can well believe that,” she snickered.  
  
He elbowed her so she would stop giggling, and Jill was barely able to compose herself before the chief of staff turned their way.  
  
They were inside the Puwaili grounds by this time, having mingled with the bustling servants that formed the noble’s retinue. Everyone was dressed in bright crimson pants and white tunics, the bright colours easily allowing Jill and Eustace to fade into the group.  
  
Less easy would be the task of breaking away from their cover. The party was steadily nearing the busier halls, where there would likely be someone who would recognize the two of them regardless of disguises. Jill hadn’t bothered to wear her chain, either - Eustace would still be exposed, and if anyone caught sight of him and looked hard enough, they would doubtless see through the magic of her own disguise anyway.  
  
Akili Konolik appeared in the hall opposite the group, his arms spread wide in greeting. Eustace gripped Jill’s arm. “We have to get out,” he hissed in her ear.  
  
There was a little-used door the group had just passed. Jill nodded discreetly to it and the two of them began to sidle down the hall. No one appeared to notice; everyone was too wrapped up in Akili Konolik’s speech.  
  
—X—  
  
“I still don’t know where to look,” Jill mumbled. Once again, they were staring at a hall of doors, only this time she knew the purpose each held. Ambassador Glozelle in this room and Lord Transcor in the next and so on down the row.  
  
“Lady Jill?” The eager voice echoed down the deserted hall, but the source had come from somewhere low to the ground. “Lady Jill, is that you? My fellow secret keeper?”  
  
“Setev?”  
  
From the shadows emerged the cheerful mongoose. He pranced happily about Jill’s feet and only stopped as he noticed that she was not alone. “Sir Eustace? Is that you? Are you alive and not dead as well?”  
  
“I - yeah,” Eustace responded. Jill glanced at him and was surprised to see that he was frowning.  
  
“The both of you alive and not dead! But Setev will keep this a secret because he is a secret keeper, he is.”  
  
Jill bent down, resting on her knees so she could be closer to the mongoose. “My friend,” she began carefully, “Do you know if any of the Narnians have been acting different lately?”  
  
“Different?” Setev paused. “Besides alive and not dead?”  
  
“Yes, if you please.”  
  
His tail moved in slow swipes as he thought carefully. “Master Frind’s hair was not so long.”  
  
“Not so long?” Eustace asked skeptically from up above.  
  
“I think he means it was cut,” Jill replied. She frowned, trying to phrase her question in a way the mongoose might understand. “Was there anyone who was not upset that Eustace and I were dead?”  
  
Setev tipped his head to the side as he considered. “The thin lady was sad but impatient. The big man was pleased but sad.”  
  
“The big man? Who is the big man?”  
  
And then Eustace was yanking her to her feet. “Hide!” he hissed in her ear and pushed her towards the nearest door.  
  
“Wait -” But then he’d pushed inside and they’d closed the door behind them.  
  
It was Ambassador Glozelle’s chambers that they had entered. Similar to her own rooms, if larger, the main chamber was brightly lit and filled with Haluan-styled furniture. There were couches in the centre of the room, a low table between them, sets of shelves lining two of the walls, and an ornate desk beneath the window.  
  
The handle of the door began to shake. Jill exchanged a look with Eustace and they tumbled towards the curtains. There wasn’t much room behind the light fabric and Jill was so very afraid that their silhouettes could still be seen from the other side.  
  
Jill became suddenly aware of how close she was to Eustace. He’d wrapped one arm around her waist to pull her in and she could feel the heat of his skin even through the fabric of her tunic. His short breaths tickled her forehead.  
  
The door creaked open. Jill knew the moment Eustace had stopped breathing because she could no longer feel it against her skin.  
  
And then: “Lady Jill? Lord Eustace? Why are you behind the curtains? Are you wanting to mate?”  
  
Eustace let out his breath in a large huff that made her wince. Setev continued, “Because it’s all right if you want to mate. Sometimes other animals like to mate in tight places. But why do you want to mate now? It isn’t the lady’s time of month. I could tell you when it is, if you would like. I could do that.”  
  
Jill pushed aside the curtain rather sheepishly, avoiding any movement that might mean she had to look at Eustace.  
  
“I could fetch a hound if you’d like. Hounds have better noses. I could do that for you.”  
  
She took a deep breath. “I… I think that’s fine, Setev.”  
  
“Are you sure? I wouldn’t mind.”  
  
Eustace found his voice. “Thank you, but no.”  
  
The fright and subsequent embarrassment had drained Jill. She sank down into the chair in front of the large, ornate desk, playing with the handle of the top drawer so that she wouldn’t have to look at Eustace.  
  
“I guess -” His voice was weak and Eustace coughed, then started again. “I guess we should start looking through the rooms.”  
  
“Or the big man,” she replied, still fiddling with the drawer handle. “Setev, who was the big man?”  
  
Absently, she tugged the drawer out. And there it was - not hidden in a lockbox in a cabinet, not buried within the pages of a ledger, but quite obvious on the top of a pad of paper. In fact, there wasn’t just the one, but many in a stack.  
  
Little black, leather pouches tied with gold thread.  
  
“It’s him,” Jill said in horror. “It’s the ambassador. The ambassador arranged for us to be killed.”


	16. Chapter 16

“I think you’re jumping to conclusions.”  
  
Jill let out a shaky laugh. “Jumping to conclusions? Eustace - they’re right here!”  
  
“Anyone could have used them,” Eustace responded. He was trying to keep a level head, trying to reason things out, but it was so hard when Jill was waving one of the little black pouches in his face. “Put - put that down. Let’s think this through.”  
  
“What is there to think?”  
  
“Well.” He took a breath, ran a hand through his hair. “If we found the pouches so easily, anyone else might have. And there’s a chance others use the same sort of pouches.”  
  
“I’ve never seen pouches like this used by anyone, before. Eustace, if it’s him -”  
  
He turned away from her, pacing across the room. “But why should it be? The ambassador travelled with us - we _know_ him - his father saved Caspian’s life in battle.”  
  
Setev had leapt up onto the desk, head turning back and forth as he followed the conversation. “Did big man do something wrong, Lady Jill?”  
  
Jill’s breath caught and Eustace hurried towards him. “The big man is the ambassador?”  
  
“Of course,” Setev responded, “Ambassador is big man. Large and human, he is. Is he the one you are looking for?”  
  
“Not quite -” Jill started, but Eustace interrupted, “Setev, where is he right now?”  
  
“In the court room right now, he is. Setev saw him there myself. Making long talks with Haluans and other Narnians, he is. Big talks and handshakes.”  
  
“They’re negotiating?” Jill interpreted.  
  
“Negotiating after our deaths?” Eustace repeated, “It’s only been, oh, three days? That’s just rude.”  
  
—X—  
  
The patio that Setev lead them to was screened by a hedge of plants, blocking the view from anyone on one of the paths that led between the various buildings of the palace grounds. Even better, it was situated beside one of the windows to the negotiations room, where both Eustace and Jill could crouch down and listen without fear of being seen.  
  
“This is ridiculous,” Eustace grumbled as he settled down on his knees, “I’d known security in Halua is not such an issue as it is in Narnia, but anyone could come listen in to these negotiations.”  
  
“It isn’t as though Haluans have much need for security of these types of matters,” Jill countered awkwardly. “That is - I don’t think they’ve done anything so serious as these trade negotiations in decades.”  
  
Eustace had to admit that Jill was right, even if it still irked him. Besides, these shortcomings were the only thing allowing the two of them to listen in and assess the situation.  
  
“We have discussed all possibilities of trade between our two countries for weeks now,” Akili Konolik was saying, “Ambassador, what other options could there be?”  
  
It could only have been Ambassador Glozelle who answered, his voice low yet still able to carry across the room and out the window. “These past three days I have had much time to contemplate,” he said solemnly, “And I believe I have come up with a solution that may suit all parties best.”  
  
“Do tell,” Konolik said cooly.  
  
“Akilis, Akinua,” the ambassador paused, “Narnia is known to have some of the fastest ships of the Eastern Ocean. We could allow the use of them for transportation of your goods for trade so long as Narnia establishes a base in your ports.”  
  
Konolik was skeptical when he responded, “And what would such a base entail?”  
  
“Narnia sets the tariffs and receives a portion of the money generated. In return, the Haluan port gains the business of Narnian merchants and their goods. I, myself, would sit at the head of the Narnian commission for this plan.”  
  
Eustace rocked back on his heels. “That doesn’t even make sense.” He resisted the urge to pull himself up, to look over the ledge of the window. “How does he expect them to even fall for that?”  
  
But one of the other Haluan Akilis had spoken up. “And in exchange, we would receive guidance and ships?”  
  
“I don’t understand,” Jill whispered, “Narnia gains control of the country in exchange for a few ships?”  
  
“Essentially,” Eustace responded, glowering.  
  
A higher-pitched voice rang out. “It may not be the ideal solution but I believe it is a better plan than the other options we have been discussing. If I may, Akinua, I recommend considering the Ambassador’s suggestion.” It had taken a moment to place the voice but now Eustace knew - it was Akili Lenukah who spoke.  
  
“They’re going to agree,” Jill realized, “After some discussion, but they’re going to agree.”  
  
And with that, his mind was made up. “Over my dead body,” Eustace growled, and then he leapt up and scrambled over the window ledge into the negotiations room.  
  
Jill had yelped behind him, but more immediate was the reaction of the room’s occupants. Shouts of disbelief, even fear, had rung out at his appearance, a majority of those who had been sitting jumping up from their seats. Akili Lenukah had, as the current speaker, been standing; she now fell down into her chair with a hand pressed to her heart. Eustace scanned the room and found the Ambassador frozen in his seat, eyes wide and face white and a hand over his mouth.  
  
“We don’t agree,” Eustace shouted, determined to put an end to this nonsense before it could catch hold. “We do not agree with this plan. Neither should you! This isn’t the best course of action for your country - you say you want out from under Calormen’s thumb but agree to crawling beneath Narnia’s instead? This is ludicrous!”  
  
The room was dead silent. Eustace became aware of someone at his side; it was Jill, reaching a hand out to clasp his own in support.  
  
“We didn’t die,” she said boldly, “Although he wanted us to.”  
  
Glozelle had lowered his hand and now stood shakily to approach them. “You - you are alive. It - it is a miracle!” He lifted his arms as if expecting to embrace them both. “Thank Aslan you are alive!”  
  
“Despite your best efforts, you mean,” Eustace said coldly. He pulled out the black pouch he’d taken with him from the ambassador’s chambers and tossed it on the floor. “You were the one who plotted our assassination because you knew we would oppose your plan.”  
  
Glozelle’s eyes flickered uncertainly between Eustace’s face and the black pouch. “Ridiculous. I fought the assassins, tried to save you!”  
  
“Killed them both to cover your tracks, you mean,” Jill responded, catching on. “Only you didn’t realize there was supposed to be a third assassin, one who’d chickened out but could still point the finger.”  
  
“To Akili Lenukah,” Eustace said.  
  
While those surrounding her took a step away, the guards moved forward as one. Lenukah leapt up from her seat again. “Mad! He’s mad. He has no proof -!”  
  
“You want proof?” Eustace said, and suggested, “If we looked in your ledgers under the date of -”  
  
Lenukah shrieked. And that was when Glozelle made his escape. Charging towards Eustace and Jill, he pushed them out of his way and had climbed out the window before anyone could move to stop him. Jill was right behind him, but she’d just climbed over the ledge when she stopped and let out a disbelieving laugh.  
  
And in through the doors marched Isak and his gang, with the Ambassador in tow.  
  
—X—  
  
“Look, we couldn’t help but overhearing,” Isak whispered to Eustace, once all the commotion had died down and Glozelle and Lenukah had both been removed from the room, “But what was the deal with the ships? Halua has its own ships; why should it require Narnia’s?”  
  
Eustace only had half a mind on the conversation. “Because Haluan ships are too slow to bring pineapples to Narnia. They rot.”  
  
“And why are pineapples so important?”  
  
Eustace blinked up at his friend, caught without an answer. All the negotiations had discussed were the limited trade options of the small island country. “Because - because pineapples are all you have that Narnia could want.”  
  
Akili Nanutoku drew up beside them. “Might I say,” he gushed, pumping Eustace’s free hand enthusiastically, “That I am so thrilled that you are still alive. I had thought the worst when you dove off that cliff, sir. It is truly a miracle.”  
  
Eustace nodded vaguely in thanks, but Isak wasn’t finished yet. “What about merspit? Or pina weave?”  
  
Nanutoku frowned at him. “Merspit?”  
  
“Sorry. The pineapple wine. Wouldn’t that keep?”  
  
“But hats?” Eustace replied skeptically.  
  
“Fabric,” Isak responded promptly.  
  
The pieces had begun to fall into place. “Fabric,” Eustace echoed, “Pina weave is a fabric? Not just for hats? Hasn’t anyone considered this for trade? And the merspit?”  
  
“But no one wants pineapple wine,” Nanutoku protested, “It’s much too common.”  
  
“Not on the continent,” Eustace countered. He pulled his hand from Nanutoku’s grip and held it out to Isak. “My friend, I think you have come upon the beginnings to a real solution to this problem.”  
  
Nanutoku huffed, “Solution from terrorists!” He stomped away to take his complaints to someone with a more willing ear.  
  
Isak rolled his eyes. “Look,” he said to Nanutoku’s back, “We didn’t mean to burn down that barn.”  
  
Jill drew up beside them, Teriko only a step behind. The younger girl was beaming wide. “You are welcome,” she said immediately, and tilted her chin up.  
  
Eustace frowned. “For-?”  
  
“She was the one to insist on following you into the palace grounds,” Isak replied with a laugh. He looked around the room and shrugged. “Easier than expected - you probably didn’t need to worry about the disguises after all.”  
  
The comment was an unwanted reminder. Eustace looked down, unimpressed. “Speaking of,” he said wryly, “I believe it’s time for me to find some new clothes.”  
  
Teriko sighed heavily. “But Eustace,” she protested, “The pair of trousers you wear now work so well!”


	17. Chapter 17

Three knocks on the door, a pause, and then one more.  
  
Jill didn’t even bother to look up from her unpacking. “By entering this room, you are agreeing to keep your hands off anything that may emerge from this trunk.”  
  
A moment’s silence met her words. Then, Eustace’s voice from the doorway: “Lion, Jill. Not even a beaver could be as meticulous about unpacking as you are.”  
  
She grinned, folding the tunic in her hands and setting it on the corner of her bed before finally turning around. Eustace was leaning up against the door-frame, a lazy smirk on his face as he surveyed the pile of clothing she’d already set out across her bed. “It’s your fault,” she retorted, “If you hadn’t made such a mess of things the past two trips -“  
  
He held his hands up in defeat. “I was only trying to help! I’d thought you _wanted_ someone else to help with unpacking.”  
  
“Help with unpacking, yes. Leave clothes draped across every surface? No.”  
  
He sauntered forward until he was close enough to the bed to touch the clothes if he so wanted. She kept an eye on him, just in case.  
  
“My shoulder’s feeling better.”  
  
It was a comfort to hear. Jill couldn’t suppress the sigh of relief at that, for though the wound itself had begun to heal not long after it was first received, the muscles had still pained Eustace the entire sea-journey home. “The healers were able to help, then?”  
  
“Apparently, dryad magic works wonders for knotted muscles.” He stretched his arm forward as if to prove a point, his hand moving a little too close to her clothes for comfort, before finally dropping it to his side again.  
  
“I am glad. It was really hurting you.”  
  
“That, and I am abysmal at doing anything with my left hand.” He paused, watching her as she shook out another dress, examined it carefully, and dropped it into the pile for laundering. “Setev was looking for you in the orchard.”  
  
“Oh dear Aslan, no.”  
  
He laughed at her expression and Jill made a face at him. At least she did not have to explain just why she did not wish to hear of the mongoose, nor have to ask Eustace to please keep her whereabouts a secret. It had been hard enough to be followed around by an always cheerful and talkative mongoose during the rest of their stay in Halua; that Setev had chosen to travel to Narnia, keeping them company the entire journey home, had been more than she could bear. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the mongoose. He was just, as Eustace had commented earlier, too much to handle in large doses.  
  
“I did manage to distract him by mentioning the squirrels in the hollow,” Eustace continued. “I have a feeling he’ll be occupied with getting to know them for quite some time.”  
  
“I _do hope_ ,” Jill said forcefully, “they make him an honorary squirrel. It would mean the world to him.”  
  
He laughed again. “That it would.”  
  
There was another pause, during which Jill pulled out two tunics that had gotten tangled together, and Eustace reached out to help and she swatted him away because she just _knew_ what would happen if she let him start bending the rules. He pulled back and pouted momentarily, and then commented as a thought struck him, “We were awfully lucky, weren’t we?”  
  
“Mm-hm,” she responded, caught up in pulling the tunics apart. Both ended up in the laundering pile.  
  
“Thank Aslan we got through it relatively unscathed.”  
  
She reached back into the trunk.  
  
“And thank Aslan it didn’t drag on for weeks.”  
  
Jill pulled out a pair of boots and set them down on the floor at her side.  
  
“And,” Eustace added significantly, “Thank Aslan I never have to see those red trousers again.” He shuddered at the very thought.  
  
Jill studied his face and then glanced down into her trunk. Deliberately, she reached in and pulled out the last article of clothing the trunk contained.  
  
Eustace flinched and then lunged towards her. Jill danced out of the way just in time, triumphantly waving the red leather trousers over her head like a banner. “You promised not to touch!” she crowed, “You promised not to set a hand on anything that emerged from that trunk.”  
  
“I’m sure I did,” he spluttered, and lunged again.  
  
—X—  
  
Lucy,  
  
Ambassador Glozelle returned to Narnia with us, and it was there that he was held on trial for his crimes. We learned he had been planning his “solution” to the trade negotiations for months and it was only the presence of myself and Eustace that had proven an obstacle. That was why he wished to assassinate us; as distasteful as he claimed murder was to him, the prospect of losing his potential island retirement was apparently even worse.  
  
As for Setev, he also returned with us to Narnia. In the years that followed, he never lost his cheerful, talkative persona. He moved into the hollow in Cair Paravel, where he met and married a lovely young squirrel. They had seven pups - we’re confused, too.  
  
Isak was involved in drafting the trade agreement between Halua and Narnia. He had an aptitude for negotiation. Eustace and I weren’t too surprised - after all, it isn’t every day a stranger convinces us both to get drunk. Three years after the incident, he married the daughter of the new ambassador and moved to Narnia, where he set up a successful Haluan-style hat shop. When we left, business was booming and his oldest child had already developed a keen interest in the art of hat-making. Isak couldn’t have been prouder.  
  
Tankana stayed in Halua. She was also involved in the trade agreements to a lesser degree and eventually received a position as assistant to the harbour-master. Last we heard, she was planning to take over the position within the year and had become engaged to a fellow Haluan named Lonko. The lucky man had originally been vying for the same position before conceding defeat and proposing instead.  
  
And what of Teriko? Always a free spirit, she became an island guide after the trade agreement opened Halua to a lucrative tourist market. As far as we know, she never even considered marriage and was perfectly content that way.  
  
And, well, you know what happened with Eustace and I.  
  
In conclusion, I do hope this helps answer your original question about the origins of the annual Burning of the Trousers celebration in Narnia.  
  
Until next time, and may Aslan watch over you,  
  
Jill  
  
—X—  
  
Lucy - There are no words to say how satisfying the first annual Burning of the Trousers was. Cheers. - Eustace  
  
—X—  
  
End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we learn that the red leather trousers were not just A plot-point, but THE plot-point.


End file.
